


All is NOT well...

by iStiz



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Cuddling & Snuggling, Depression, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, HP: EWE, Happy Ending, Healer Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter Friendship, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Not Epilogue Compliant, Past Child Abuse, Physical Abuse, Quidditch, Rehabilitation, Slow Build, Substance Abuse, vague sexual content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-19
Updated: 2018-03-02
Packaged: 2019-02-04 10:59:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 65,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12769599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iStiz/pseuds/iStiz
Summary: The war may be over but all is NOT well. Harry feels lost, the Ministry is still trying to control him, his friendships with Ron is rocky at best, he doesn't sleep enough, and then there's Draco Malfoy. Things haven't turned out quite the way Harry expected them to, but at least he still has Hermione to help him (and maybe some new friends if he can trust letting them into his life).





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> After writing a Harry/Charlie fic, I really wanted to try some different pairings than what I usually write- except for Harry/Draco. And while this is not epilogue compliant (because the epilogue is trash), I did steal the last line of the epilogue for the title. I just can't believe JK would write these characters for so long and then think that they'll just have this ending where "all is well". I will add tags as the story goes (including relationships) just because I don't want to spoil anything. Obviously you'll figure it out as you go. Comment as much as you like because I love reading your ideas and talking about Harry Potter and comparing theories! :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All that being said... I mean no disrespect to JK Rowling and I promise to treat her characters kindly (they belong to her, after all).
> 
> [UPDATE: THIS FIC IS NOW COMPLETE!]

“Mister Potter?” Harry looks up when the mediwizard calls his name. “Healer Stackpoole will see you now.”

Ignoring the gasps and murmurs from the other patients as he walks by, Harry follows the mediwizard down a short corridor and into a small examination room. A middle-aged man with hair greying at the temples is already there reading through paperwork when he walks in.

“Good morning, Mister Potter,” he says, putting down the papers and holding out his hand. “I’m Clive Stackpoole. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too, sir.” Harry shakes his hand and gives a tight smile.

Healer Stackpoole notices how uncomfortable Harry looks. “There’s nothing to worry about, son. This is just a simple physical. And Robards has been sending me his Auror Trainees for years now!”

This doesn’t make Harry any more comfortable but he appreciates the effort. “I just don’t do well with doctors or examinations. I don’t like people poking and prodding me.”

“I promise not to poke or prod unless absolutely necessary. Deal?”

“Uhh…” Harry isn’t sure if he likes Healer Stackpoole, but the physical is unavoidable. Head Auror Robards told him that there was no getting around it. It’s Ministry policy. “Sure.”

“Great! First thing you need to do is take off your shoes, socks, and trousers- you can leave your pants on- and then hop on up.” He pats the metal exam table with his hand. While Harry starts to undress, Stackpoole suddenly puts one of his fingers to his forehead. “I almost forgot! There is someone studying to be a healer who is supposed to be coming in. He’s only in the first stages of healer training so he won’t be interacting with or treating you in any way, merely observing, but I have to ask your permission for him to be here. Healer/patient confidentiality still applies, of course.”

Harry freezes with one leg only half out of his trousers. He wants to say no, but he’s in training too and knows that whoever it is would probably rather be anywhere else as well. “Er, I suppose that’s alright.”

“Splendid! I’ll go get the lad. He’s with Healer Corbyn right now, but she has very few appointments today.”

Harry finishes undressing as Healer Stackpoole goes off in search of the trainee. The exam table is a little too tall for him to reach from the floor, but Harry finds the step at one end and climbs his way up. Just as he’s considering casting a warming charm on the cold metal, Stackpoole comes back in. Trailing behind him is the last person Harry ever expected to walk into the room.

“Malfoy??”

Draco’s head snaps up in shock. The look on his face would be priceless if not for Harry making the same exact one. “I don’t think this is such a good idea,” Draco says to Stackpoole.

“Nonsense! Healer Corbyn told me she had a light day and wanted you to observe some basic physical examinations.” He slides a stool over to one side of the room and gestures for Draco to sit. “We can begin as soon as you close the door.”

Draco shuts the door as directed, but gives Harry a pleading look. Harry opens his mouth to agree with Draco but Stackpoole is already beginning the exam. He moves his wand quickly and precisely, casting spells and charms and dictating as he goes to a Quick-Quotes Quill hovering by his side.

“Patient is 18 years of age. Male. Height…165 cm. Weight…54 kg.”

Harry can see Draco’s eyebrows furrow and he really wants to know why. But he never gets the chance to ask because then Stackpoole is telling him to hold his legs out straight before he goes back to more casting and note-taking.

“Patient’s bone density is a little below average. Growth plates seem to have fused too early. Joints bend normally. Skin looks good, except for the bottoms of his feet. Mister Potter,” he speaks to Harry, “may I ask what happened to your feet? Any extreme heat or cold?”

“The only thing I can think of is while we were hiding out in the Forest of Dean. There was ice. I shouldn’t have been barefoot on it, I’m sure, but at the time it was the least of my worries.”

Stackpoole nods and Draco is making that face again, but once more Harry doesn’t get the chance to ask him why. “Alright, Mister Potter, you may rest your legs. You will also need to take off your jumper at this point.”

Harry worries his lip as he looks from Stackpoole to Draco and back again. He doesn’t want either of them to see. “Is it completely necessary?”

“I know it’s chilly in here,” Stackpoole says, misinterpreting Harry’s hesitation, “but I promise you can put it right back on when I’m done.”

He breathes in deep and holds that breath as he pulls off his Weasley jumper. He folds the warm burgundy bundle and sets it in his lap. Then he closes his eyes and tries to think about anything else when Stackpoole walks around him.

“Patient has extensive scar tissue on his upper body. Most is consistent with typical injuries received during in the line of duty. One heavily discolored mark on his chest, probably from a dark curse. Lines across his back would indicate some more specific form of torture or abuse.”

Harry is considering stopping the examination, but thankfully Healer Stackpoole moves on.

“Patient’s heart and lungs are healthy. Kidney and liver function is normal. Throat is clear. Eardrums look good. Eye motion is within range, though when did you last see an Eye Healer, Mister Potter?”

“Er, never? My aunt took me to a muggle Optometrist and that was years ago.”

“When we’re done here today I’ll get you set up with an appointment.”

Stackpoole draws three vials of blood and then instructs him to put his shirt back on. Harry doesn’t hesitate. He knows he stretches out the neck when he pulls on his clothes so quickly, but he can always ask Molly to fix it back up for him. He breathes a sigh of relief when his chest and back are covered once more.

“The results of your blood tests will be added to your files, but don’t expect to be notified unless we find something unusual. You seem to be in very good health, Mister Potter, though I will suggest that you put on some weight and perhaps more muscle. Being an auror is tough work and you’re going to need it. Do you have any questions or concerns?”

Harry wrings his hands together nervously. “Um, well, I don’t know how much you already know, but I really was killed by Voldemort during the final battle. He destroyed the horcrux that he created inside me and I died. Somehow, I was able to come back. As for how? Your guess is as good as mine. Better, even, probably since you’re a healer. But I just want to be sure that there’s no lasting damage from, well… dying.”

Stackpoole adjusts his glasses and ponders what Harry has said. “Medically, there doesn’t seem to be anything so out of the ordinary that it gives me pause. Does anything feel off or different?” Harry shakes his head no. “Then in my professional opinion, Mister Potter, I would suggest that you thank whomever or whatever it was that gave you a second chance and figure out a way to live your life to the fullest. Though to be fair, that would be my advice for anyone.”

He shakes Harry’s hand and wishes him luck in the future, then gathers his notes and leaves the room. Draco stands and moves to follow, but stops short of the door. He turns around to face Harry and says, “Thank you, Potter. I wouldn’t be here today if you hadn’t spoken for my mother and me at our trials. You’ll do well as an auror, I’m sure.”

“About what you saw-” Harry starts but he’s cut off by Draco.

“We all have scars, Potter. Some more visible than others, but we feel the weight of them all the same.” He doesn’t expect a response, but gets one anyway.

“I think Ron’s physical is scheduled for tomorrow. Should I warn him that you’ll be here?”

Draco lifts an eyebrow when he sees the smirk on Harry’s face. “I think maybe we should let Weasley find out for himself, wouldn’t you agree?”

Harry lets out a soft laugh and Draco smiles in return. “I think that’s a great idea. I’d say let me know how it goes, but I have the feeling he’ll floo directly to our flat and tell me himself.”

“Oh, I’m sure he’ll have plenty to say.” Draco lets himself indulge in Harry’s smile for a just a moment more, and then leaves the examination room. Harry watches the place where Draco was standing until another healer walks past and asks him if he needs any help. He embarrassingly says no and quickly pulls on his trousers. He leaves St. Mungos with an appointment to see an Eye Healer in a couple of weeks and a feeling about Draco that he just can’t shake.

* * *

Hermione hands over a cup of hot chocolate as soon as Harry tumbles out of the floo. Harry thanks her and drops down onto the sofa with a tired groan. She walks behind him and starts to rub his shoulders. “Want to talk about it?”

“It was just as bad as I thought it would be, ‘Mione.” He hums as she digs her thumb into the side of his neck. “But I didn’t bawl like a baby, so that’s a plus.”

“You’re allowed to cry, you know.”

“I know. I just don’t like to.” He sips his hot chocolate and relaxes as Hermione continues her massage. “I saw Malfoy,” he blurts.

Her hands stop moving. “Oh?” she asks, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Yeah. He’s training to be a healer. He was doing observations and Healer Stackpoole asked if he could sit in.”

Hermione moves around to sit next to Harry on the sofa. “And you said yes?”

Harry shrugs. “It’s not like he’d try to hurt me or anything.”

“Well I didn’t think he would, but I’m still surprised you agreed to have him there during your exam. Especially considering…”

“I didn’t know it was going to be Malfoy until he walked in. When he saw me he tried to get Stackpoole to let him go, but no such luck. It’s alright. He didn’t see the worst of it. And when the exam was over he thanked me again for helping him and his mum out at their trials.”

“That was nice of him. Though he already sent you that letter and gift basket, which was over the top as it was.”

He smiles at the memory. “Those were the best chocolates I’ve ever had.”

“The wine was amazing too, but I know you don’t much care for the stuff. Want to hear what my dad told me about today?”

Harry sips his hot chocolate as Hermione tells him a hilarious story about Doctor Granger and a little boy who kept biting him during his dental appointment. The clock on their wall chimes, but not at a specific hour. Hermione charmed the thing to function like an alarm clock so that she would never be late to one of her courses.

“Robards may have given you the rest of the day off, but I have to get going. I’ll be on campus at the university until after supper so you’re on your own.”

“I know, Hermione; it’s a Wednesday. Have fun.”

“While they are interesting, I don’t know if these pre-law courses can be considered _fun_.”

“Either way.” He watches as she gathers her bags and heads to the front door. “Oh, and expect Ron to show up in a snit at some point tomorrow.”

“Why’s that?”

“He doesn’t know Malfoy is going to be observing his physical.”

Hermione throws her head back in a loud laugh. “That’ll be brilliant.” The clock chimes again. “I don’t want to be late! I’ll see you tonight if you’re still awake.”

She opens the door and leaves, the automatic hinges closing behind her. “If I’m still awake? I never sleep,” Harry says to himself. He walks over to the window to look for her. A minute later Harry can see her leave through the side entrance of their building, look both ways, and then disapparate on the spot.

* * *

Harry is still brushing the soot from his trousers the next day when he hears his name bellowed from the kitchen. He doesn’t bothering answering Ron. He knows his best friend will come stomping around the corner in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1…

“Harry!” Ron yells again as he steps across the threshold, face as red as his hair.

“Hiya, Ron.”

“Don’t you ‘Hiya, Ron’ me!” he snaps. “Hermione tells me you _knew_ that the ferret was going to be there today! And you didn’t think you should tell me??”

Harry really tries to not laugh but Ron looks ridiculous. “He’s just doing his job.”

“I was sitting there in my pants!”

“Didn’t Stackpoole say you could say no and send him out?”

“Well, I-I mean…” Ron stammers and then sighs, smacking his arms at his sides. “I had to be the bigger man! Word would have gotten back to Robards had I kicked the ferret out, I just know it.”

Harry pats him on the shoulder and then with mock solemnity says, “Whatever you need to tell yourself.”

He walks past Ron and towards his bedroom to change into more comfortable- and not sweaty- clothes. Ron follows after him still grumbling, though no longer about Draco. As soon as he mentions Ginny, Harry tunes him out. Ron leans against the doorframe while Harry changes into a worn t-shirt and pair of sweatpants.

Once dressed, Harry faces him again and notices the expectant look on his face. “Sorry. What was that?”

Ron sighs. “I was just saying that Mum wants to know if you’ll be around for Sunday lunch. It’s Fleur’s birthday and she wants to have everyone there.”

“Oh.” It’s not that Harry is avoiding the Weasleys altogether, but he can’t deny that he hasn’t been making an effort to see them.

Ron seems to notice his discomfort because he quickly adds, “I told ‘Mione she was invited too, of course.”

“Oh,” Harry says again dumbly.

“Everything alright, mate? You know you can always talk to me.”

Can he though? Harry doesn’t hold any grudges against Ron for what happened during the war, and at the end of the day he knows he’d die for him without a second thought. But ever since Harry found out that Ron had started dating Lavender Brown again (or, well, _properly_ started dating her this time) from Seamus Finnigan instead of from Ron himself, there’s been this small part in Harry’s mind that tells him maybe they aren’t as close of friends as they used to be when they were little first years.

“Harry?”

“Yeah, sorry.”

“Yeah? You’ll be there?” The way Ron’s face lights up is almost too much. Harry can’t go back now, even if he didn’t mean to agree in the first place.

“Yeah. Tell your Mum I’ll be there.” He pushes past Ron so that he can go to the kitchen and find himself a drink. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen everyone, I know.”

Ron once again follows after him. “No kidding it’s been a while; even Charlie has been asking about you. He won’t be in this time but George and Percy will be, and Bill obviously since this is all for Fleur.”

Harry makes an indeterminate grunt as he pushes things around in the fridge. He finds two butterbeers shoved into the back corner and pulls them out triumphantly. He offers one to Ron, but it gets turned down.

“Lavender and I are meeting up with Neville and Hannah tonight. I promised her I wouldn’t drink anything beforehand.”

There’s that feeling again, like something is ever so slightly wrong. Not majorly wrong. Just…off. Harry pushes the feeling down like he always does. “I thought Neville was seeing Luna?”

“Don’t even get me started on that!” Ron smacks a hand to his face and groans, making Harry laugh at the reaction. “I’m starting to think he’s dating _both_ of them, but he’s so secretive that I can’t figure out what the deal is!”

The laughter dies in Harry’s throat. How can Ron be so hypocritical?

But thankfully Ron doesn’t notice the change in Harry’s demeanor. “I’ll see you on Sunday, yeah?” He takes a handful of floo powder and steps into the fireplace. “And don’t think I’ve forgotten about Malfoy!” he calls as he throws down the powder and vanishes in a flare of green flames.

“I haven’t either,” Harry says to the now-empty room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know by the last book Harry's tall (though not as tall as Ron) but I like the height difference between him and Draco better.


	2. Chapter 2

Harry jiggles his knee up and down as he adjusts his new glasses. His old ones always rested on his nose in a strange way, but he’d grown accustomed to it over the years. The silver, rectangle frames he got only yesterday have updated lenses and a shape much better suited to his face, but they tickle the bridge of his nose in a way not unlike an oncoming sneeze. He’s aware of the feeling constantly and just hopes it will go away soon.

The door to Healer Mason’s office swings open and she waves Harry in. He takes in the now-familiar motivational posters and moving diagrams of the parts of the brain. Harry started seeing Healer Mason just after the war ended. She came highly recommended by Madame Pomfrey, and Harry has not been disappointed. She’s always on time, she understands his desires to keep everything private, she works around his auror training schedule, and most importantly she doesn’t treat him like anything special or different. To Healer Mason he’s simply: Harry Potter, patient.

“How are you feeling, Harry?” she asks as he settles into the leather chair opposite her desk.

This time he doesn’t have to ponder the answer, searching for the right words. “Today was a good day,” he responds right away.

She smiles broadly. “That’s great to hear! What happened that made it so good?”

“I didn’t have to work, and I went to the first lesson in a figure-drawing course that my friend Dean is teaching.”

“That’s very interesting! I knew you liked to draw but I didn’t realize it was a hobby you were interested in pursuing further.”

Harry lifts one shoulder. “I didn’t really know either. But Dean told me there was an opening and the rec center was going to cancel on him unless he filled the spot.”

Healer Mason scratches something down on her parchment. “Ah. So you did this purely to help out a friend?”

“Well, I mean…to begin with, sure. But it turns out I’m pretty good at it. As you already know, I’ve always liked drawing but art isn’t exactly an offered course of study at Hogwarts.”

“That’s quite alright. Having hobbies outside of work commitments and familial obligations is healthy, as is being with friends. It seems you’ve done well with the homework I’ve assigned you.”

Harry adjusts his glasses again and then looks down at his shoes. “With that part, sure. But I haven’t done so well with the other part of it.”

“I take it you mean the sleeping?”

He nods without looking up. His entire disposition has mood in a matter of seconds. “I still haven’t been able to get through a full night without the dreams.”

“And what is the longest you’ve slept? Last time you said less than an hour.”

“Somewhere between one and two? Definitely no more than two hours, max.”

“And how many days in the last week have you used Dreamless Sleep?”

This is the question he’s been dreading. Harry knows the side effects of using the potion long-term- Healer Mason has lecture him about them plenty of times- but he also has a life that he can’t live if he’s a drooling, sleepless zombie. “Four.”

Healer Mason sets down her quill and gives Harry a pinched-lip look of disapproval that makes him think of Professor McGonagall. “Harry, we’ve talked about this.”

“I know! But I only did it because I had to get through training!”

“And if you have a substance addiction then the Ministry will never let you be an auror.”

Harry rubs his thumb over the scars on the back of his left hand. It’s a nervous habit he developed after his detentions with Umbridge and though the words no longer pain him, the motion still sooths him. “I. Know.”

“Harry,” she says gently, “I’m not trying to scold you like a child. I simply worry about you. You’re making adequate progress in everything except for this. I still say you’d be a perfect candidate for-”

“No.” Harry cuts her off. “I will not be a part of any ‘study’. I want to live my life without being poked and prodded and being told what to do. I want to make my own decisions. I’d also like to point out that I’ve gone from using Dreamless Sleep every night to only three nights a week. I understand that you want me to be off of it completely but I’m not ready for that yet.”

“But if you continue, you may never be able to stop. You’ll be a slave to the potion and once again you won’t be able to make your own decisions.”

“Just…give me time. I can do this, but I need more time.”

Healer Mason writes for a few minutes as she processes what he’s said. “Alright. You bring up some good points, but I’m still concerned about the frequency of your Dreamless Sleep usage. So, by the time we reach our next session I want you to be down to three or less times a week. We’ll keep working together to alleviate the need to use any at all, hopefully sooner rather than later.”

“I can live with that,” Harry concedes. “It’s not as though I _want_ to be using it, but there’s only so much time I can go without sleep.”

“That’s what we’ll focus on next, then. On the nights where you can’t sleep I would like you to write down what is keeping you up. When you feel like you’ve recorded all the details, then use the deep breathing and mind clearing techniques we’ve discussed before.”

Healer Mason finishes up with the usual questions about Harry’s relationships with Ron, Hermione, the Weasleys, and the rest of his friends. She tells him it was a good thing that he was willing- even if reluctantly- to go to the Burrow for Fleur’s birthday. He tries not to blush under her praise.

“I think that’s it for today, Harry, unless there’s anything else weighing on you that you’d like to share?”

Harry’s mind drifts to thoughts of a certain blonde that have been running laps through his mind ever since his physical, but he decides against sharing that right now. He shakes his head no.

“Alright, then feel free to show yourself out. Don’t forget your homework, and don’t forget that to contact me right away if you’re in crisis or just feel like you need to see me again sooner!” She gives him a quick smile and then goes on writing her notes.

“Thank you, Healer Mason.” Harry stands and opens the door to the small waiting room. He steps through, letting the door close behind him, but then freezes when he finds none other than Draco sitting in one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs. “Malfoy? Are you training here as well?”

Draco’s eyes fly open and he looks…scared, like he’s afraid Harry is going to attack him right here in the Mind Healer’s waiting room. “P-potter?”

“Are you doing training hours with Healer Mason? I should probably tell her that it would be a conflict of interest for you to sit in on my sessions.”

“No, I’m…” Draco looks around and the room and, finding no one else there but the two of them, sits up taller. “I’m a patient of hers as well.”

“Oh. Well, er, I guess that’s good?” Draco lifts an eyebrow and Harry backpedals quickly. “I mean, that’s not good! But it’s not _not_ good! It’s…oh gods I’m sounding like such a git.” He buries his face in his hand and waits for Draco to yell at him, but the sound that reaches his ears is quite the opposite.

Draco is laughing quietly to himself. “Your way with words has always astounded me, Potter.”

Harry shuffles back and forth on his feet. “Can you, um, not tell anyone that you saw me here? Healer Mason usually makes our sessions the last of the day so no one else is around. I don’t mind that you know I come here but I’d rather it not get out to the press.”

“You think I would sink so low as to tell the Prophet- or anyone, for that matter- about your mental health?” Draco glares at him, all traces of laughter gone. “I thought you had changed but apparently you still see me as the vindictive boy from Hogwarts.”

“No, Malfoy, wait-”

“Draco, you may come in now.” Healer Mason is waiting at the open door to her office expectantly.

Draco abruptly stands up and brushes past Harry, walking quickly as though to get away from him as soon as possible. Harry thinks he should feel relieved that their awkward encounter is over but he regrets not having a chance to apologize. He’ll just have to come up with a way to make it up to Draco. But what can he do that would actually appease him? Harry leaves with his mind fuller than when he arrived, and that night his notes of what’s keeping him awake is nothing but Malfoy’s name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nobody can convince me that half these characters are not in therapy of some sort.


	3. Chapter 3

Hermione will never be the Quidditch fanatic that Harry is- let alone Ron- but she has come to appreciate the sport after attending so many matches to watch her boyfriend play. Dating a professional International Quidditch player also has the added perquisite of getting free tickets to any match she wants. Today finds her enjoying the Puddlemere United v. Holyhead Harpies match with Harry. She wishes Viktor could be there but Bulgaria has a strict training schedule and he can’t get away.

Harry is nearly bouncing in his seat with excitement. No matter how many Quidditch matches he’s played in and watched as a spectator over the years, it always feels just as thrilling as the first time. And the view they have from the Owner’s Box is phenomenal. “I know Viktor usually scores us some amazing seats, but this is on another level. How did he manage to swing this?”

“Something about the owner’s stepson talking to him?” Hermione shrugs. “The details got lost in his accent and he didn’t have time to explain further before he had to run off to practice.”

He has the feeling that it wasn’t their _conversation_ that made Viktor late to practice, but he’s chooses not to tease Hermione about it. “Well remind me to thank him for whatever it was because it practically feels like we’re out on the pitch ourselves. I can’t wait for the match to start.”

A man looking entirely out of place wearing dress robes walks into the box and offers them drinks. “Compliments of the owner, of course.” Harry nods, even more impressed than before, and asks for a Butterbeer. Hermione orders the same and man snaps to produce two ice cold bottles. “Enjoy.”

“I could get used to his,” Harry says as he relaxes into one of the seats against the railing.

Hermione concedes that this is quite nice; much nicer than the many weekends she spent cheering on Harry in the breezy student stands at Hogwarts. “I am looking forward to see Ginny play.”

“And Oliver.”

She gives him a knowing look. Harry is covered in Puddlemere gear from his scarf down to his charmed-navy-blue trainers. “Have you spoken to him yet?”

“No, ‘Mione, because it’s not a big deal.”

“It’s not a big deal that you have a poster of him in your bedroom? No, wait, let me amend that. It’s not a big deal that you have an _enchanted_ poster of him in your _adult_ bedroom?”

“‘Mione! First it was Malfoy and now it’s Oliver. Are there any other blokes you think I should be dating??”

She reaches a hand out and sets it gently on his arm. “I just want you to be happy, Harry.”

But Harry doesn’t get the chance to defend himself and say that he is already happy thank you very much, because the door to the Owner’s Box bangs open. They jump at the sound, turning around to find Draco and Blaise walk in. The pair are deep in conversation but Blaise looks up when he realizes that someone else is already there.

“Ah! Hello, Granger.” he greets, walking forward to offer his hand to her with a smile and a slight bow of the head.

Hermione stands slowly and shakes his hand, confused about what’s going on.

“And Potter,” he offers his hand then to Harry, bowing his head again. “I should have figured that when Krum said he couldn’t make it that you would be escorting Granger.”

His tone is cordial, but it doesn’t clear up any of the confusion they’re feeling. And if Draco’s face is anything to go by, they’re not the only ones who are missing something. “How did you know Viktor wouldn’t be coming?” Hermione asks him. “Or that I _would_?”

“Oh, I just assumed he’d told you. My mother’s latest husband owns the Harpies and he likes to have high-profile guests using his box seats. He’s been quite determined to get me involved in ‘the family business’ so finding important people to invite to the matches has now fallen on me. When Krum wrote to me asking about tickets, it was all too perfect. It’s rather unfortunate he can’t be here but having two-thirds of the Golden Trio works just as well, I suppose.”

Again, everything Blaise says is genial enough but there’s an edge to it that’s too Slytherin for Harry’s liking. He must be scowling because Draco says, “Calm down, Potter. At least you get to enjoy your girlfriend’s match from the best seats possible in return for selling yourself out.”

“Draco,” Blaise sighs as he rubs the bridge of his nose.

Harry snarls, “What is your problem, Malfoy? Is this still about the other day? I’m sorry about our misunderstanding. I know you’ve changed and I didn’t think you were going to tell the Daily Prophet about my seeing a Mind Healer. I was just asking- as a _friend_ \- that you would keep my secret in confidence.”

“Oh.” Draco’s face falls. He spent that entire session with Healer Mason ranting about how much of a prat Harry was to him and how the ‘Golden Boy’ would never change. It turns out that Draco is the one who can’t get past old prejudices. There’s only one way to fix this. “I apologize for thinking the worst of you. After everything we’ve been through, I should have known better.”

Harry turns his widened eyes to Draco in disbelief. Blaise catches Hermione’s eye and jerks his head to the other side of the box. She gets the hint and the two of them back slowly away to give Harry and Draco some space.

“Thanks,” Harry says quietly, surprised but still pleased by the apology. “And Ginny’s not my girlfriend.”

Now it’s Draco’s turn to be surprised. “The two of you were quite cozy while we were at Hogwarts.”

“We actually had a loud and ugly- though thankfully not public- breakup that there was no coming back from. And weren’t you the one that pointed out we’ve changed since school?” Harry isn’t sure what possesses him to add, “Besides, she’s not really my type.”

“Too gingery?” he guesses. “Or too freckly?”

“More like too female-y.”

“You’re gay?” Draco hears himself ask, mentally kicking himself for such a stupid question.

Thankfully, Harry doesn’t mind. “Yep.”

“That will break more than a few hearts, I’m sure, when it gets out.”

Harry laughs deeply at the straightforward way he talks. “I suppose. Though it would be ideal for my sexual preferences to not be headline news.”

“Like you seeing a Mind Healer.”

“Exactly.”

“Me too.”

“I get that, trust me. Your medical issues are your privacy and you’d think there was more important things to report on than-”

“No,” Draco interrupts. “I mean, I’m gay too.”

“Oh. Oh! So you and Blaise…?”

“What? NO! Blaise is like the overly-affectionate relative that I can’t get to leave me alone. We’ve known each other since we were in nappies, and my mother is the only friend that his mother still has. They would love if we got together, I’m sure, but I know where Blaise’s prick has been and I have no desire to come into contact with it.”

Harry is saved from having to come up with a proper response to that because the announcer is starting to introduce the teams. He jogs over to the railing next to where Hermione is already standing. Puddlemere players are named first and they fly in formation around the pitch. Harry cheers loudest when Oliver Wood is called as Keeper, ignoring Hermione’s knowing look.

Blaise and Draco join them at the railing by the time the Harpies are named. Ginny is easily spotted, even across the pitch. She has chopped her bright red hair into a short pixie cut that flatters her face. Harry always liked the way her hair fanned out behind her when she was flying, but perhaps that’s one of the reasons she cut it all off.

* * *

The match is fast-paced and entertaining. Oliver does a fantastic job in goal, only allowing the Harpies to score 30 points, but the winner is determined as it often is by the Seekers. The Harpies were outplayed and outscored but their Seeker got to the Snitch first so they beat Puddlemere 180 to 150. Harry mourns the loss as though he is a member of the team which makes Hermione roll her eyes. He doesn’t snap out of it until Blaise tells them he can get them into the locker rooms to meet the teams. Harry couldn’t care less about the Harpies (and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t trying to avoid Ginny) but he really wants to see Puddlemere.

Blaise leads them down a back staircase and through a hidden tunnel under the stands. The few employees they pass immediately press themselves flat to the side of the tunnel to let them through. Then he opens a rather unassuming door and they’re assaulted by overwhelming the smell of locker room. Draco and Harry are used to it from Hogwarts, but Hermione wrinkles her nose in disgust.

Once word gets around that Harry Potter is there with the owner’s stepson, the players all come out to say hello. Harry recognizes them from his posters and he feels a little like a star-struck child. He also feels silly now about wearing all of the Puddlemere paraphernalia (especially when Hermione, Draco, and Blaise don’t have a single item of navy and gold on them), but thankfully none of the players mention it.

Draco stands to the side pretending to be uninterested at the way everyone is fawning over Harry. Hermione notices and tells him that it’s always like this. “It really frustrates Ron that he doesn’t get the same attention.”

“I always knew the Weasel just wanted the spotlight on him,” Draco sneers.

 Hermione gives him a warning look. “We might not have worked romantically but we’re still friends. And be careful around Harry; insulting Ron is the quickest way to ruin the new relationship you’re forging with him.”

“R-relationship?” Draco splutters. “What in Salazar’s name are you on about, Granger?”

“Friendship is a type of relationship,” she says with a raised eyebrow.

“Who says we’re friends? Has Potter been going around telling people we’re friends??”

Merlin save her from these boys! Hermione rubs at her forehead. “No, but would that be so bad?” Draco doesn’t answer, so she pats his arm and tells him to just think about it. “Now I’m going to step back over there and make sure that Harry doesn’t embarrass himself too badly.”

Draco catches sight of Harry and snorts in amusement. “He does look a bit giddy. Does he really like Puddlemere that much?”

“He really likes _Oliver_ that much.”

“Oh.” Draco isn’t sure why that makes his insides twist uncomfortably. Why should he even care? He shouldn’t. Bloody hell, but he does. “I need to get out of here,” he mutters as he quickly moves away from Hermione.

Now that only Oliver Wood is left talking to Harry, Blaise lets himself be pulled away by Draco. Draco won’t open up as to why he has to leave _right just now_ but Blaise has been friends with him long enough to know that it’s probably something to do with Potter.

Hermione watches them go thinking that spending time with them really wasn’t so bad. She figured they had changed, as they all had, but it’s nice to know that it was for the better. She imagines that discussing current events with either Draco or Blaise would give a broader insight, being that they have differing opinions from her own. They’re both quite intellectual and it hits Hermione all at once that they could have benefited from studying together for years now. She has to stop the growing list of ‘what if’s and keep from dwelling on the past, especially when the present is much more entertaining.

Harry is standing well within Oliver’s personal space and he’s blushing, red standing out even on his darker skin. Then Oliver sets a hand on his shoulder and Harry giggles- actually giggles. Hermione can hardly watch, though she has to admit it’s nice to see Harry so happy for a change. She knows it’s practically killing him the way things are between him and the Weasleys. And- though Harry would adamantly deny it- Hermione doesn’t think he actually likes auror training so far. She just wants him to be happy. So if acting like a lovesick teenager is what Harry needs to be happy, then she’s more than willing to encourage it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHHH I POSTED THE WRONG CHAPTER!!!!!!! This is fixed now, but I accidentally uploaded chapter 5 before chapter 4. Apologies to anyone who read the wrong chapter before I caught it!  
> \-----  
> There's a bit of a time jump here. Consider about a year to have passed.

Harry dives behind a hedgerow to avoid the curse aimed his way. He checks over his shoulder but no one is there to cover him. Using _protego_ , he shields himself just enough to peer over the edge of the shrubbery. He can’t see his target but he can tell the general direction the spells are coming from, so he stretches his arm out and wordlessly casts a stunning hex. Harry figures he’s hit one of the targets but another must remain because the onslaught slows down but doesn’t stop.

He attempts his tried and true _expelliarmus_ next but to no avail. “It must be the simulation,” he mutters to himself. “If there’s no real wizard then there’s no real wand.” Not for the first time, Harry finds himself thinking he’d be doing better if Hermione were here with him. But no…she wants to study law.

Another curse whizzes past his ear and he focuses his mind back on the task at hand. He takes in a deep breath and then lets loose a string of increasingly stronger spells until he realizes that he’s no longer under attack. With a triumphant whoop, Harry jumps up- only to immediately be hit by a teal blue hex that he doesn’t recognize. The pain blooming in his shoulder causes his whoop to morph into a strangled cry. He falls to the ground, writhing and grabbing at his arm. Normally, a hex’s effects will lessen over time but this one seems to be getting worse the longer Harry rolls around. He eventually passes out from the pain.

* * *

Harry is swimming through the Black Lake. He has gills thanks to the gillyweed Dobby snuck him. He knows he has to find ‘something he’s lost’ but he isn’t sure what to look for. The water around him is cold and thick and his impervious charm has worn off long ago. In fact, the more he swims the more he seems to stay in the same place. His time is going to run out! He’s going to lose his best friend! Wait; best friend? How does he know that it’s Ron he’s supposed to be looking for? He feels his gills start to retreat back into his neck. He opens his mouth and chokes on water. Something grabs his ankle- _a grindylow_ , his mind suggests- and pulls him down into the murky depths. All seems lost.

But then, from the endless darkness surrounding him, Harry hears someone calling his name.

He tries to kick yet the grindylow still has its hold on him. But then he’s free! He flails out his arms to get to the source of the sound. The water is growing lighter so he must be getting nearer to the surface. Whomever is saying his name sounds closer now. It’s definitely a male voice, loud and insistent. Harry gives one last push to break through the water. He heaves a breath, lungs filling with the precious air his body has been deprived of. His vision swirls in front of him- spots quickly giving way to the brightness of day.

A light chuckle sounds from his right. “Welcome back, Potter.”

He blinks rapidly, trying to focus on the face looking down at him. The person has brown hair, golden skin, and a smattering of freckles across his nose. Harry thinks that his inability to look away from this handsome, blue-eyed man might be proof enough that he’s one hundred percent gay.

The man chuckles again. “I’m flattered, Potter, but I’m already taken. And, I have the feeling you don’t really know you just said that out loud.”

Harry groans in embarrassment as reality comes crashing back in full force. “Terry Boot, right?”

“You remember me?” he says with mock-flattery. “Oh, I’m honored.”

Harry almost rolls his eyes because has nothing changed since school for Terry? But he catches himself since mocking your healer is probably not the best choice. “Of course I remember you. What I _don’t_ remember is what happened to land me here. Was I drowning?”

Terry’s eyebrows pinch together in confusion. “No, Potter, you weren’t near any water. You were in the middle of auror training and something went wrong with the simulation. You were struck in the shoulder by a misfired hex.”

It comes back to him in bits and pieces. The odd color, the initial pain, the way it made him feel like he was burning alive. “Any idea why it felt like it was getting worse?”

“Your body reacted to it as though it was a dark spell, even though the Auror Department assures me they don’t use those during training exercises.

Harry scowls deeply. They wouldn’t really do that to him, would they? But then he thinks about the way the Ministry has always wanted to use Harry as a poster-child for the ideal. They’ve always wanted to show him off as something larger than life; something greater than reality. “I think whoever told you that lied.”

Terry finishes writing something into Harry’s chart with a flourish of his quill, and then claps the file closed. He seems like he wants to say more, but is apprehensive to do so. “It’s interesting you should say that, Potter. My…colleague…brought up that very point to our supervising instructors. He thinks that the aurors may be using illegal spells as to force you to ‘prove yourself’ as the Savior. And after everything I’ve seen from your injury, I’m inclined to agree with him.”

Fury is simmering just below the surface, but Harry has enough sense to make sure he’s alright before running to Head Auror Robards and demanding an explanation. “Am I going to be okay?” he asks wearily.

“You have nothing to worry about. We’ve healed your shoulder and you should have no lasting damage. You can go back to training tomorrow.”

“I think I’m going to have a word with my boss, first.” His knuckles crack as he clenches his fists tightly at his side. The very air around him fizzles with potential magical energy.

Terry heads for door, giving an impressed smirk over his shoulder. “Good luck with that, Potter. If anyone deserves a break, it’s you.”

“Cheers?” Harry is confused by their interaction- especially when he can hear Terry chuckling some more as he walks down the corridor- but he pushes those thoughts to the back of his mind. His first priority is to find Robards and, if necessary, Kingsley. He’s not a kid anymore and he refuses to let anyone put him in needless danger for their own gain ever again.

* * *

When Hermione gets home after her law courses, she is surprised to find Harry sprawled on the sofa in the front room absentmindedly rubbing at his shoulder. “Bad day at the office?” she teases.

Harry rolls his head around to give her a look of disdain. “You would not believe what they’ve been doing to me.”

“Is this a ‘you need to sit down’ story, or is this a ‘you need to get a stiff drink’ story?”

“Both.”

“Yeesh, give me a mo.” Hermione scampers away but returns just a few minutes later changed into her pajamas and holding a large glass of spiced wine. Harry raises an eyebrow in amusement but she only shrugs as she settles cross-legged onto the floor in front of him. “I had a shit day, too. Now spill! What happened??”

He tells her about the mishap at work and then of Terry’s assessment of his injury. He tells her about Robards flying off the handle and swearing on every known deity and dead relatives’ graves that he would never be so careless as to use dark magic against his own recruits. He tells her about Kingsley refusing to pick a side as to appease everyone. Hermione is much calmer throughout the retelling than he expects her to be. She drinks her wine- though the sips get larger at each new detail- and doesn’t comment until Harry is completely done.

She sets her empty glass down and rests her chin thoughtfully onto one fist. “This is serious, Harry. Do you want to make a formal investigation? I have connections now with a few wizarding solicitors, and I can almost guarantee that they would fall over themselves to defend the great Harry Potter.”

“Oh, Hermione, not you too…” he whines, slapping his hands over his face.

She throws her head back, cackling in delight. “You know I’m giving you a hard time, but that doesn’t make it any less true.”

“I don’t want to involve solicitors. I just want to be treated like everyone else.”

“You want to be normal,” she says with understanding.

“Exactly. And I’d really, really like to not get killed by my employer.”

Hermione snorts, clapping a hand over her mouth before it’s even all the way out. Harry glares at her, but it only makes her snort again. Then the snorts become giggles. Then the giggles become full-blown laughter. She tips over, holding her stomach as she rolls side to side. Harry tries to keep glaring but her laughter is just too contagious. He ends up sprawled out on the floor next to her, laughing to beat the band.

As they calm down, Hermione rests her head on Harry’s shoulder and slings an arm across his chest. She likes that they can share moments like this as friends. “So how was Terry Boot? I was always impressed by him in school.”

“Really?” Harry cards his fingers through her hair but they almost instantly get tangled up in her curls.

“Of course! He was smart, and I was impressed by anyone who showed educational aptitude.”

“Does that mean you were impressed by Malfoy as well?”

“I wasn’t impressed by his bad attitude or his willingness to be a prat at every turn, but I’d be lying if I said his performance in our lessons- especially Potions- didn’t push me to work even harder.”

Harry gives a hum in response. He thinks about what Terry said about talking to ‘a colleague’. It was just vague enough to make Harry wonder. “I think Malfoy may have been there while I was unconscious.”

“Is that okay? I mean, he _is_ training to be a healer.”

“No, no, that’s fine. It’s just that…I wonder why Terry chose to talk to him about me.”

“Maybe they were both assigned to your case?”

“You’re probably right,” Harry concedes.

“Pfft! I’m always right.” She waves her wand to wordlessly turn on the wireless and Celestina Warbeck floods the room.

They lie there together just listening and letting the news of the day sink in. Crookshanks slinks over and curls herself up between them. He loses himself in the motion of petting her and humming along to the wireless. Then Harry remembers something Hermione said before he started talking. “You mentioned your day was shit as well. What happened?”

She sighs deeply before saying, “My muggle law professor just told us about some anti-LGBT legislation that is being written up, and then my wizarding law professor told us about some anti-werewolf legislation that might be pushed through soon. It just feels like every issue I care about is being attacked and I’m not in a position to do anything about it yet. I’m useless, sitting in classrooms all day.”

“No more useless than me. I should be out fighting the bad guys and instead I’m dodging hexes from my own side.”

“This isn’t what I imagined our lives would be like after the war,” she admits with another heavy sigh.

Harry plants a kiss to her forehead before pulling away. His knees pop as he gets to his feet, making him simultaneously wince and laugh. “Nothing is what I imagined it would be like after the war. But let’s just focus on what we can do right now. Like dinner. I’m thinking…tandoori?”

“Oooo, yes! There’s that Bengali place that Parvati told us about.”

“Don’t mention Parvati! I still haven’t thought of a polite way to turn her down.”

Hermione picks herself off the floor so that she can go get money for their takeaway. “There is no polite way to turn her down. And besides, she knows you’re not into women and you owe her for the awful way you treated her at the Yule Ball.”

“I was fourteen! How can she still be holding that over my head?” Harry hands her the menu and the cordless telephone. “I don’t even know if I can take off enough time from work.”

“Just use certain recent events as a bargaining chip. I doubt the Ministry would want it to get out that its own DMLE is purposely injuring the Savior."

“You mean blackmail.”

“Sure, if that’s what you want to call it." Hermione twirls a bit of hair around her finger, looking nothing like the conniving mastermind she is. "And besides, it’s just one wedding.”

“One _family_ wedding _in India_ where she wants me to pretend to be her nice _Indian boyfriend_ to appease her _grandparents_. The whole thing has ‘Classic Potter Blunder’ written all over it.”

Hermione’s already punching the restaurant number in and has the phone between her ear and shoulder. “You have time to prepare. Maybe you could take some dance lessons?”

“And where exactly am I going to take dance lessons that won’t attract the attention of half the wizarding world?” he asks cynically.

“You could ask Luna? Oh! Hello, yes, I’d like to place an order.” She paces into the kitchen and leaves Harry to solve this one on his own.


	5. Chapter 5

Draco is at the Manor, revising for an upcoming exam with Terry Boot. (They put aside old house rivalries once they realized they’d be going through healer training together and they’ve become rather inseparable.) Draco is ready to throw his textbook across the room when the perfect distraction floats into his view. A silver deer that he would know anywhere stops in front of him and delivers its message:

“Er, Malfoy? This is Harry. Erm, well, Harry Potter. Not that you didn’t already figure that. Sorry. What was I saying? Oh yeah! I need your help. Your mum and your aunt are out…doing whatever it is women do together and they left me with Teddy- which is fine! But he’s crying and usually I can get him to stop but this time I can’t. I know you take care of him sometimes so I was wondering if you could come over to Andi’s house and help out? I’m this close to going mad and, well, I don’t know. Please help? If you can’t or don’t want to that’s fine. Um, I guess just show up if you can? If not you can send me an owl or something. Or, I don’t know.”

Potter’s stupid rambling cuts out after that and Draco can’t help but roll his eyes. For being the Savior, he really is hopeless. He doesn’t necessarily want to go help out Potter, but his cousin is clearly in distress so he should really go over there and take care of him.

Terry clears his throat to get Draco’s attention. “So, let me guess; you want me to make myself scarce so you can run to Harry’s side?”

That catches Draco off guard. “What are you insinuating?”

“Don’t try to fool yourself, Draco, because you’re certainly not fooling me. You haven’t stopped talking about him since you observed the auror physicals. And then when he got hurt during training?” Terry slams his textbook and other supplies into his bag, already making his way to the door. “You’re certainly not good at hiding your feelings.”

“I’m not leaving just because of any supposed feelings for Potter. I’m leaving because he’s clearly incapable of taking care of Edward and I don’t want to see my cousin perish at his hands.”

“He’s not going to _perish_ , Draco. I’m sure Harry is perfectly capable of taking care of a baby.”

Draco stands to face him, hand on his hip. “What is this really about?”

“I like spending time with you! And I was starting to think that you did, too! But it seems I’ll always play second-fiddle to the great Harry Potter.” And just like that, he’s gone.

Terry’s comment hurts more than any stinging hex he could have cast. Draco is left staring at the place where he disapparated from.

* * *

Harry runs a hand through his already disheveled hair. Teddy is going on his second hour of screaming and how the little boy hasn’t already gone hoarse from it he’ll never know. The floo flares green and Harry doesn’t care who is about to step through. It could even be Voldemort returned from the grave and he’d be glad to have another person here suffering with him. Thankfully, it’s not Voldemort but Draco.

“Oh, thank Merlin!” He all but shoves the crying infant into Draco’s arms.

Draco pulls out his wand and casts a modified muffling charm that his mother taught him especially for this purpose. It lowers the volume of Teddy’s cries without muting them altogether. Harry lifts his head from his hands and looks at Draco so gratefully, like he could kiss him in relief. “How did you…”

“Mother said that I was quite difficult as an infant. She taught me that one because she used to use it on me. But let’s keep that between us, as I’m not sure Andromeda would approve.”

“I get that. Though I still don’t know _why_ Teddy is so upset.”

Draco props Teddy up on his shoulder and pats his back as he gently bounces him. Harry thinks Draco is either humming under his breath or talking very softly, but either way it seems to do the trick because after just a few minutes Teddy is calming down and Draco is able to lift the muffling charm.

Harry drops himself down onto Andi’s sofa throws his head back, eyes pinched shut. He can hear Draco walk away- probably to put Teddy into his crib- and back again, but he never opens his eyes. Then the sofa dips down to his left and he can sense Draco looking at him expectantly. “What?” he grunts out, still seeing the inside of his eyelids.

“Edward is asleep.”

“No thanks to me.”

“But that’s why you sent your patronus, is it not?”

Harry sits up and looks at him with wide, sad eyes. “Because I’m a failure that can’t even take care of my own godson? Yeah, don’t remind me.”

Draco sighs and forces himself to look away from the watery, green eyes boring holes into him. “Look, Potter; children are fickle. What will please them one day will infuriate them the next. Something as simple as a gas bubble in his stomach could make him fussy for hours. Not knowing what to do doesn’t make you a failure. And you did the right thing asking for help, though I do wonder what made you think of me and not Weasley’s mother.”

“Molly and I…are on shaky ground right now. She is always trying to mother me and I’m trying to be my own person. I knew if you came over to help, you wouldn’t use the opportunity to guilt me into having family dinners every week.”

“You can be sure of that!” Draco snorts.

They both laugh and then relax back onto the sofa once more. “Thanks again,” Harry says, breaking the comfortable silence.

“You’re welcome. Though you may have ruined my chances with Terry Boot.”

Harry’s face pales. He and Draco are only recently back on speaking terms and now he’s gone and messed up his personal life. “Oh no, were you on a lunch date or something? I’m so sorry!”

“No, nothing like that. We were simply revising for our upcoming healer exams. But it turns out that Terry is interested in more than just friendship. I had no idea.”

“And he doesn’t like you left him to come here?”

“He seems to think I have an obsession with you.”

Harry groans and pushes himself to standing. “If one more person tells me that I think I’m going to lose it.”

“What do you mean, Potter?” Draco steeples his fingers in front of his mouth, eager to hear what he’s going on about.

“Ron has been telling me since sixth year that I’m obsessed with you.” He can feel his face warm, so he turns away so Draco can’t see. “Which is absurd.”

“Maybe he and Pansy should get together because she was playing that same song as well.” Harry cautiously turns around and stares at him with narrowed eyes. It makes Draco uncomfortable to have that focused gaze turned on him once again, so he quickly stands and prepares to leave. “I suppose I should go back and fetch my revising partner. Even if nothing comes out of us personally, we make a good team of healers.”

“You seemed to patch me up okay, at least. Thanks again, Draco.”

He snaps his head around at the sound of his given name. “What did you call me?”

“Draco. At least I think I did. Did it come out strange?”

“No, that’s what I thought you said. Malfoy Manor!” Draco is thankful that no one is there to greet him when he stumbles out of the floo. Since when does Potter think he can refer to them as friends? _Are_ they friends? They’re at least friend- _ly_ with each other, but more than that? Draco isn’t sure.

* * *

Narcissa returns from her shopping excursion with Andromeda to find Draco is the same place he sat all afternoon, ignoring his revisions. She kisses his cheek and says, “Hello, darling. How was your day?”

He can tell by the look on her face that Potter already told her and Andromeda what happened. “Mother, please spare me.”

“I just wanted to hear your side of the story.”

“Edward needed me because Potter is woefully unfit to care for him.”

“Draco!” she admonishes, placing her hands delicately on her hips. “Harry said you were quite chivalrous. I’m proud of you, coming to his aid like that.”

He rolls his eyes, unaffected by his mother’s disapproving stance. “It was nothing. He asked for help and I helped.”

“I know you had a prior commitment with Terry.”

One eyebrow lifts. “Yes?”

“I do hope he was understanding.”

“He…misinterpreted my decision.” Narcissa nods, encouraging him to go on. “He…implied…that my reasons were selfish in nature.” When his mother only tilts her head slightly, he sighs and tells outright, “He said I was obsessed with Potter!”

“Oh, darling,” she coos as she swoops to his side, sitting primly on the window seat next to him. “I know that you’ve gotten close with Terry, and I’m sorry that he didn’t trust you.”

“I just wish people would let it go. I’ve had to hear it for years and according to Potter, he’s had to deal with the same.”

“Is that so?”

“Mother, I can hear you brain scheming already. Please don’t.”

“What was that, darling?”

Great. She’s already ignoring him in favor of planning his future in her mind. “I’m going to put together some sandwiches for dinner, is that alright?”

“Of course. Thank you, Draco. I’m going to go write up a letter, so feel free to start without me.”

He watches her go with a sinking feeling in his stomach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who has given kudos and commented! It keeps me going when the real world gets me down :)


	6. Chapter 6

Harry is expected to go to Ministry events, not just because he’s an auror but also because more people will show up if they know that the Savior is in attendance. He schmoozes with foreign dignitaries- Hermione helps with the translation charms- plays nice with Ministry officials, and pretends not to notice when elderly witches pinch his cheeks like he’s still a small child. He meets and is encouraged to get to know the members of the Wizengamot (though this isn’t so bad once more of the open seats are filled with younger witches and wizards, some of which he already knows). He hates going to Ministry events. No, that’s not right. Harry _despises_ going. It’s always so exhausting.

But two times during the year are worse than all the others. Every spring there’s the memorial for those who lost their lives at the Battle of Hogwarts, and every winter there’s the fundraising gala for the wizarding orphanage. Both causes are important, sure, but Harry dreads going to the events because of all the feelings they dredge up. And this year is no different.

A week before the Christmas Eve gala finds Harry in front of a mirror at Twilfitt & Tattings. He’d rather be at Madam Malkin’s, but the elderly witch never reopened her shop after it was destroyed by Death Eaters. He turns one way and the other to see how the dress robes look from all angles. (This is another thing he hates about going to Ministry events: he always has to be dressed well.) Distantly, Harry hears the chime of another patron coming into the shop. Then a familiar face appears over his shoulder in the mirror.

“That cut is very flattering on you, Mister Potter, if you don’t mind me saying.”

It should be a strange complement but to Harry it feels like a very motherly thing to say. He turns an appreciative smile to Narcissa. “Thank you. Although I’m not sold on the color. And you can call me Harry.”

“Harry, it is, then, but only if you call me Narcissa.”

“I can do that, _Narcissa_.” He gives another wide grin and throws in a wink for good measure.

Narcissa titters demurely, lifting a hand to cover it lightly over her mouth. “Save the flirtations for someone a few years my junior. And maybe try an emerald green for the robes.”

“A bit Slytherin, don’t you think?” Harry lifts an eyebrow but waves over the shop worker- Leanna, he thinks her name is- to have her charm the dress robes for him.

“And what is wrong with Slytherin? I would think you of all people would be above house prejudices.”

Her words are accusing but her tone is still light. Leanna helps Harry charm the robes and then steps aside. He checks out the new color in the mirror before saying to Narcissa, “I don’t have a problem with Slytherin. I was almost sorted into the house myself. And I was only teasing because I think Draco’s entire wardrobe is made up of Slytherin silver and green.”

“Silvers and greys accentuate his eyes, would you agree?”

“Yes, they do.” It takes a second for Harry to realize that he fell right into her trap. “I mean! Well, erm, not that I’m, uh, _looking_ , but, I suppose…”

She just gives him that infuriatingly smug look that mothers give when they know they’ve gotten the better of a child. He’s seen it from Molly enough times by now to recognize it. Thankfully, she changes the subject. “You will look quite festive for the gala. That is, I’m assuming, what you are purchasing new robes for?”

“Er, yes.” He fiddles with one of his sleeves. Across the shop, Leanna glares at his nervous fidget. Harry notices and says he’ll buy the robes. With a wave of her wand, the robes are off of him and folded neatly into a box. She tells Harry that the box will be at the front counter when he is ready. Harry thanks her and then turns back to Narcissa. “The orphanage means a lot to me, considering the way I grew up, and if me being there helps raise money then I will attend.”

“Wonderful!” Narcissa claps her hands together and almost bounces on the balls of her feet. “I look forward to seeing you there.”

“You’ll be attending?”

She knows she must proceed carefully, as not to scare off Harry. She knows her son’s desires and is sure she can help, but she also respects his want for privacy. “Of course. In fact, I was coming here to pick up Draco’s new dress robes for the exact occasion. He cares deeply for the orphanage as well.”

“He does? He never mentioned it before.”

She sighs and sits on one of the cushions in the shop, gesturing for Harry to join her. “When you spoke for us and we were cleared of all charges, that also meant that we didn’t have to pay reparations. That never sat well with Draco. He felt as though he had to do more to make up for our past, so he took his inheritance and donated it to the organization that he felt most responsible for.”

“The wizarding orphanage,” Harry breathes out in understanding.

“The wizarding orphanage,” Narcissa confirms with a nod. “He thought of some of his friends and school mates, of his own cousin, even of you; and when the whole story about…Riddle…” she shudders at the very name, “was printed in the Quibbler, he knew he was doing the right thing. He’s been giving away most of his paycheck ever since.”

Harry knew the orphanage had recently added on to their facility and hired more staffing thanks to a large influx in donations, but he never thought of where the money had come from. “That’s…”

“I trust you can keep this between us? Draco doesn’t want anyone to know.”

“Of course.”

“We’ll be seeing you soon, Harry. Take care.” And at that, Narcissa stands and brushes at her skirt and leaves him to his thoughts.

* * *

Harry’s usual ‘date’ to the Ministry events is Ron (he refuses to take Oliver and have their relationship exploited by either the Ministry or the Prophet), but on the morning of the gala he gets a fire call that changes everything.

A chime sounds and when Harry stands in front of the fireplace, Ron’s face appears in the embers. “Hiya, mate! I’ve got some news.”

“Good or bad?” Harry asks.

“Both, I suppose.”

“Get the bad news out of the way and tell me that first.” He braces himself for the worst.

Ron takes a visibly deep breath and says, “You’re going to the gala on your own.”

That’s what he thought was going to happen. Harry pinches his eyes closed and tells himself to breathe. The only reason these events are even tolerable are because of the jokes he and Ron make the whole night. And he was banking on Ron to run interference with Malfoy. Without his best friend, this is going to be torture.

“What’s the good news, then?”

“Geeze, Harry. Look a little less like you’re going to your death. It’s just a gala, and at least you care about the orphanage.”

“The good news, Ron.”

His face breaks out into a goofy grin and Harry’s anger ebbs just a bit. “Lavender is coming with me.”

That’s a huge deal and Harry knows it.

Hermione and Professor Trelawney were able to stop Greyback from killing Lavender during the final battle, but the damage from his attack was already done. Lavender has permanent scars marring her face, neck, and chest. She went through months of treatment at a specialized clinic (founded by Bill Weasley) after the war to treat the physical damage as well as to learn how to deal with the cycles of the moon. She’s not a full werewolf but the full moon is still hard on her.

Ron went with Bill to volunteer at the clinic and that’s where he ran into Lavender again. She couldn’t imagine that Ron would still want to date her (sixth year felt like so long ago), especially now that she’s disfigured. But it seems that his year on the run did more than teach Ron how to fight; it also taught him how to be less shallow and care about more than how much he could snog her to make Hermione jealous. Ron and Lavender started seeing each other and they’re more in love now than ever, but even though she’s gotten a lot better she still won’t be seen in public with him.

Until now.

“Ron…that’s great. Really.”

“I’m so proud of her. I honestly didn’t think she’d ever get to this point but here we are! I’m only sorry that leaves you without someone.”

“I can still talk to you, right? Just because Lavender’s there doesn’t mean you’ll ignore me, right?” Harry cringes at the desperate tone of his voice.

“Of course, mate! I would never shut you out.”

If only Ron’s word was worth anything these days. “Well, I’ll let you go. I should start getting ready anyway.”

“See you tonight!”

* * *

The press has an unnecessarily strong- though positive- reaction about Harry’s new dress robes. Harry complements Narcissa’s help in picking them out, but he also reminds the reporters back to the real reason why they’re all there: to support the wizarding orphanage. Years of Hermione coaching him through interviews like this tell him that it will make for a great quote in the morning paper.

Harry sees Ron, his tall frame and flaming hair standing out above everyone else, and quickly makes his way across the hall to join him. Ron is dressed in his standard pair of maroon dress robes. It’s the one shade of red that doesn’t completely clash with his coloring, and he loves that he can still show his Gryffindor pride years after leaving Hogwarts. Lavender completes the Gryffindor look with a stunning one-shoulder ball gown in a shimmery gold color.

Harry can’t help but look at her scars, which should be prominently on display in the gown she’s wearing, only to find that they are quite diminished. A gasp escapes his mouth before he can stop it. “Lavender, you look smashing!”

“I couldn’t have said it better myself,” Draco interrupts to make his presence known.

She gives them each a hug in turn to hide the flush on her cheeks. “You’re too kind, Harry, Draco.”

Ron glares at his girlfriend. “Why are you hugging and thanking the ferret?”

Draco looks at Lavender and she nods, as if giving some sort of permission for him to continue. “I worked with her as part of my rotation with Magical Create Attacks,” he explains.

“And what? Now you think you can just hug her whenever you want?”

“Ronald,” Lavender says warningly, sounding so much like Hermione that Harry has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing.

Ron all but growls as he takes Lavender by the elbow and hauls her off to the other side of the hall. Harry didn’t know what he was expecting of him, but he thought he would show at least a little more civility in front of others- especially on Lavender’s first night out.

Draco just snorts. “Once a weasel, always a weasel.”

Harry wants to stay neutral but he laughs because honestly he was thinking the same thing. “I didn’t realize you had worked with Lavender.”

“Healer/patient confidentiality. I couldn’t talk about it, not even when she was improving. But she’s out of the program now and she’s alright with you knowing.”

“She really does look good,” Harry says in wonder. “I thought she was going to have those scars forever?”

“I wish I could take the credit for that one,” Draco says with a head shake, “but it’s these new cosmetics out of France. They’re part potion and part actual make up imbued with magic. Essentially, they’re genius and whomever invented them is going to make a fortune.”

That gives Harry an idea. “Would they work on my forehead?” He pulls his hair up to expose the lightning bolt scar, as though Draco might not know exactly what he was referring to. “And maybe my hand?” He pulls up his left sleeve to show the words, ‘I must not tell lies,’ that up until this point Draco thought were just a rumor. “And my chest?” He moves to undo his buttons but his hands are stopped.

“Maybe don’t undress yourself when there’s a greedy reporter with a camera just over there?” Draco jerks his head to the left and Harry follows his motion to indeed find a wizard with his camera poised and ready.

“Good call. Perhaps we could take this conversation elsewhere?”

Draco raises an eyebrow in amusement. “If that’s what you want, Potter.” And he leads the way to a secluded balcony, the flash of camera bulbs going off behind them.

Once outside Harry locks the doors and casts warming charms on both himself and Draco. Then relaxes, leaning his elbows on the balcony railing. “Gods, I hate Ron so much sometimes. I know that’s awful. But first he _promises_ me he’s not going to ignore me just because he’s here with Lavender, and then the first chance he gets he insults you and leaves me. He can be such a selfish prat.”

“Why don’t you come with Granger? Or Oliver Wood? You are still seeing him, aren’t you?”

“Hermione uses the rare opportunity of me being out of the flat to spend some…quality time with Viktor.” Harry wrinkles his nose at the thought. “Though I can’t blame her. Vik has a busy Quidditch schedule and unless I’m on a raid I don’t really leave home.”

“And Wood?”

Of course Draco won’t let that go. “I like that the Prophet doesn’t know about us. Our relationship is the one thing I get all to myself.”

“Ah.” He thinks about the way his own preferences and failed relationship with Terry were plastered all over the newspaper. “That’s understandable.”

“Is that why you didn’t bring Terry Boot?”

“We’ve been on a grand total of one date. I certainly wouldn’t be bringing him here. Not to mention this is the first gala my mother has talked me into attending. In return, I don’t have to accompany her to Azkaban on New Year’s.”

“I’m sorry, Draco. There was nothing I could do to save your father from-”

“Stop right there.” He turns to face Harry. His voice is sharp but there is no anger on his face. “Lucius got everything he deserved. You have no reason to feel responsible for his imprisonment.”

“But he’s your dad!”

“Not since he-” Draco gulps and starts again. “Not since he sold my mother and I out to the Dark Lord. There is no lost love between me and Lucius.” He doesn’t like the pitying look that he’s getting so he changes the subject. “Now what about these scars of yours?”

Harry respectfully doesn’t comment on his parents anymore. “Can I get some of that makeup that Lavender is using? Or is it especially for victims of werewolf attacks?”

“Fair warning, the company is quite secretive. All I know is the name- Pangory Cosmetics- and that they’re out of France. I don’t even know where in France because they’re the ones that contact the people that they sell to.”

Harry looks at the back of his hand. Those words have haunted him for so long. He would love nothing more than to be rid of them. “Is there any way you could let them know that I’m interested?”

“I can try, but this might be the one time where being the Savior doesn’t help you. If they thought you were meant to have their product, you would have it.” Draco doesn’t say this in a mean way. It’s obvious he’s just trying to be honest. A strong gust of wind makes Harry’s hair twist around his face. “You should have used an impervious charm on it.” Upon the confused look he receives, Draco clarifies. “Your hair.”

He tries to smooth it down. “I didn’t think I would be outside.”

“I would have thought you had an escape plan at every one of these functions they parade you out for.”

“Sometimes, but I actually care about this one.” He takes a chance and adds, “Thank you for your donations to the orphanage.”

Draco clenches his fists and grounds out, “Mother.”

“Yep.” Harry pops the ‘p’ sound for effect. “But I’m glad she told me.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

Draco doesn’t dare to look him in the eye again, but Harry forces him to by putting a hand to his cheek. He wishes more than anything that he could feel the gentle touch.

And of course that’s how Narcissa finds them. She must have used an unlocking charm because she opens the balcony doors and they jump apart. Then they follow her inside, unsurprised to find that they have been seated at the same table. Harry does his duty and chats up the others at their table. Draco is very quiet at first but Harry is able to get him to open up as the night goes on. Draco also discreetly vanishes part of his meal as to appear that he's eaten it. Only Narcissa notices.

Once their meal is over, the tables are vanished and the live band starts to play. This is the part of the evening where Harry and Ron usually stand to the side of the hall and make fun of everyone and everything. He is expecting the same from Draco, so it’s even more surprising when Draco asks him to dance.

“You cannot be serious,” Harry says with an unamused expression.

“In all our years, have you ever known me to make jokes?”

“You made jokes all the time! That whole ‘Weasley is our King’ song was comedy gold.”

Draco smiles with pride at the memory. “Regardless, I am completely serious right now.”

“Draco…no. Do you not remember the Yule Ball? That was the first and last time I have done real ballroom dancing. I have no desire to repeat the performance.”

“You’re right; that was awful. But all you had was a last-minute pity date from Patil. I am significantly more graceful and you won’t have to lead. Just follow what I do.”

Harry can see Ron watching him from across the room, and he thinks this will be the best revenge on his friend’s behavior. “Fine. One song.”

Draco leads Harry out into the center of the dance floor, turns, and bows to him. Harry just stands there with wide eyes until Draco whispers for him to do the same. He makes a shallow bow and instantly rights himself once more. Draco extends his arms into proper form and tells Harry where his own should go. He takes a step backwards and Harry follows him, not nearly as clumsily as Draco expected. He takes another step, Harry follows again, and then they’re dancing.

The music and the room is a blur to Harry as he dances across the floor with Draco. There’s no way he’ll remember the steps or the song come morning, but right now he’s enjoying himself. And then suddenly they stop. Draco is politely clapping along with the other dancers so Harry mimics them. Another camera flashes and Harry’s heart sinks. What will Oliver think when he reads the newspaper? What will everyone think?

“I have to go.” Harry doesn’t run but he does walk quickly as he makes for the door.

“Wait!” Draco chases after him, catching up when they’re outside. “Harry, wait! I’m sorry!”

That stops him in his tracks. “What are you sorry for, Draco?”

“I clearly made you uncomfortable. You like your privacy- and so do I- and I just made you do something in public that will certainly make the press go mental.  So for that, I am sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for. You didn’t force me to do anything. I just want to get home.”

“Of course.” Draco stands out of the way so that he can apparate safely. “I’ll see you around, Potter.” He wants to say more but he knows better. He lets Harry go.


	7. Chapter 7

“Thank you, Healer Mason. As always, your time is greatly appreciated.”

“You’re quite welcome, Draco. As always, your candor is greatly appreciated.”

Draco nods, ignoring her mimicking, and promises to work on his homework over the next week (saying no to Blaise and Terry). Then he stands and sees himself out of her office. He half expects to see Harry waiting outside. It doesn’t happen every week, but it’s happened often enough that he is now hopeful that he’ll open the door and see Harry’s perpetually messy hair and posh, new spectacles. What he absolutely does not expect to find is Hermione waiting in the chair closest to the door.

“Oh,” he says, shocked. The sound of his voice makes her look up and that’s enough to snap Draco out of his stupor. “I was unaware that Healer Mason was so popular with those our age, though I would highly recommend her to anyone in need of mental health advisement.”

Hermione has to smile at the rambling way Draco talks when he’s caught off guard. “I’m not a patient of hers. But it’s alright that you are!” she quickly adds. “And Harry, of course. That’s actually why I’m here. Harry is out of the country and he forgot to tell Healer Mason that he would have to cancel his appointment.”

“Why did you not simply send an owl?” he asks with narrowed eyes.

Hermione hefts her overstuffed bag higher on her shoulder. “I came from my muggle law course at the university so I didn’t have access to any owls. And Harry never bought a new one after Hedwig, so it wouldn’t have helped to go home. It just seemed easier to come here and let her know in person.”

Draco only nods, at a loss for anything to say. He didn’t realize she was training in both wizarding and muggle law. And why doesn’t Potter want an owl? It was one of the first things he made sure he and his mother had as soon as they were released back to their home after the trials. And who in the hell is Hedwig?

Always one to fill an awkward pause, Hermione shifts her bag and excuses herself to speak with Healer Mason. Draco watches her go and wonders who would care for him the way Hermione does for Harry. There will always be Blaise, but not for the first time Draco’s mind wanders to Pansy and Greg. They ran off once their names were cleared (again, thanks to Harry’s testimony) and he hasn’t seen them since. Healer Mason encourages him during each session to reach out to his friends and reconnect, but he doesn’t even know where to start.

“You’re still here?” Hermione asks as she steps back into the waiting room. Draco is standing right where she left him.

He looks left and right as if he forgot where he was. “Oh, I suppose I am. May I walk with you to the nearest apparition point?”

“Of course.” She leads the way out the building and down the sidewalk. “If I’m being honest, though, I rarely use the designated apparition points.”

Draco casts his amused gaze down at her. “And does the Ministry know?”

“They wouldn’t figure it out even if I turned myself in,” she scoffs.

That makes him blurt out a surprised laugh. “Oh, that’s rich! I think I might like you, Granger.”

“Just don’t tell Viktor,” she teases with an exaggerated wink. Then she’s struck by inspiration. “Speaking of my boyfriend…how would you like to accompany me to a Quidditch match this weekend? Like I said earlier, Harry is out of the country and it’s no fun going by myself.”

“Who is playing this time? And why can’t Viktor attend?”

“He can’t attend because he’s the one playing. Bulgaria has moved on to the next qualifying round for the Quidditch World Cup. They’re playing France and I really want to go. Please say you’ll come with me?”

Draco hears himself agreeing before he realizes what’s happening. And then Hermione has her arms wrapped around his and she’s squeezing. He opens his mouth to protest but by then she’s already pulling away again.

“Thank you, Draco!”

He tugs at his sleeves, brushing away imaginary lint. “What is the deal with everyone using my given name all of a sudden?”

“Maybe because it’s your name?” she says as though it’s nothing, backing up to the apparition point as she does. “I’ll send you an owl with the details. It’ll just be one from the post office, so keep an eye out for that.” She raises her wand. “And you can call me Hermione!”

* * *

Draco forgets all about the promise of an incoming owl while he’s at work the next day. His shift is busy and his mind is kept full of diagnosis methods and healing spells. It isn’t until he sits down at the dinner table across from his mother that he remembers. There’s an envelope resting at his usual spot. He doesn’t recognize the handwriting but it’s addressed to him. “Who is this from, Mother?”

Narcissa folds her hands primly on her lap. “How am I to know, darling? I did not recognize the owl and I certainly did not read your correspondence.”

“Was it a Ministry owl? Like one from the post office?”

“That is what it appeared to be. Are you expecting something important?”

He runs his finger along the edge of the envelope, tracing the letters of his own name. His face is unreadable as he contemplates the possibilities within. “It’s…a proposition, if it’s what I think it is.”

Narcissa gives a hum, then picks up her spoon and slowly starts to eat her dinner. Oh, and doesn’t that just grate on Draco’s last nerve. First his mother acts like she’s interested and then suddenly it’s as though she doesn’t care anymore. He’s dealt with this his whole life but it doesn’t make it any less frustrating, especially when he could really use someone to talk to about this. Blaise has been busy and things are still strange with Terry, so it’s either Narcissa or nobody.

“Mother,” he says agitatedly.

“Yes?” she replies as if she has no idea why he’s using such a tone with her.

Draco goes against every etiquette rule his father never let him break growing up, and leans his elbows on the table while rubbing at his temples. “Mother,” he says again.

She finally sets down her spoon and turns her full attention to him. “Is there something I can do for you, darling? Something on your mind?”

“Honestly, Mother…stop teasing.”

“I’m sorry,” she chuckles, sounding very much _not_ sorry. “What is the letter about?”

He tears open the seal and unfolds the parchment, scanning through the message quickly. “It’s from Granger- Hermione Granger. She wants me to attend a Quidditch match with her.”

“And is she hoping this will lead to a romantic relationship?”  
“What?!” Draco’s arm slips in surprise and his head almost smacks the tabletop. “No! Gods, no! What is wrong with you, Mother?”

“I simply thought that would explain your trepidation with her offer, seeing as your tastes usually lie elsewhere.”

His eyes are rolling before he can stop himself. “That is a fact Granger already knows. She would normally be accompanied by Potter but apparently he’s out of the country, and her solution is to have me take his place. I’m sure she plans on befriending me along the way.”

“And would that be so bad, darling? She isn’t called ‘The Brightest Witch of her Age’ for no reason; not to mention the connections she has. If you ever decide that you want to branch out from St. Mungo’s, she may be able to help you do that.”

Draco stands so abruptly his chair clatters to the hardwood floor. “I don’t need her help or her bloody connections! I am doing- and will continue to do- just fine on my own!”

He stalks out of the room, completely ignoring his mother as she calls after him. He makes for the one place he’s always felt safe, even when Voldemort had them all held hostage. The sound of the front door slamming behind him is just as satisfying now as it had been as a teenager. The same can be said for the refuge of the oak trees in the east garden. Draco sits down in the soft, cool grass and pulls his knees up to his chest. He closes his eyes and leans back against the nearest trunk. He listens to the rustling of the leaves in the trees. When one flutters towards him and lands on his shoe, he sightlessly reaches a hand down to brush it away but he hits something else instead. Cracking one eye open, he finds the letter from Hermione waiting for him.

Leave it to Narcissa to find a way to add her two knuts even from afar. “You’re so manipulative!” Draco growls into the empty wind, knowing full well she can’t hear him but that somehow she’ll know.

* * *

Draco walks into the office of Magical International Travel on Saturday at exactly five minutes to twelve. Hermione is already there waiting for him, annoyingly prompt. She gives a little wave and smiles so wide that Draco looks over his shoulder to be sure her energy is aimed at him.

“Hi, Draco!” she greets him cheerfully.

“Hello, Hermione.” He remembers to use her given name like she requested. “You sure are chipper this morning.”

“I’m just excited you agreed to come with me. I’d go anywhere for Viktor, but these matches are always better with a friend.”

A friend? It’s all more than a little overwhelming for Draco. He shoves down the strange feeling rising up in his throat and nods his head. “Ready?” he forces out.

“Yes!” Hermione leads the way to one of the designated floos for international travel. “We’ll be arriving in the lobby of the Château Fourqueux, where they have portkeys ready to take ticketholders to the Quidditch stadium. Did you know that it was designed after the Palace of Versailles?”

“Of course I know that. Who doesn’t?”

“Me, up until yesterday.”

Draco staggers back dramatically and throws a hand over his heart. “I know something that the great Hermione Granger doesn’t?”

She playfully punches him in the shoulder. “Just get into the floo, you tosser.”

The floo trip is uneventful (if not a little uncomfortable due to their shared space) and they both step out on the other end gracefully. Hermione looks around the ornate building in wonder and, though Draco has been there before, he appreciates it more when seeing it through her eyes. He lets her marvel at her surroundings for a few minutes and then politely nudges her towards the front desk.

Hermione all but skips over to collect their portkey, but there’s quite a long queue so Draco decides to wander the lobby. The last time he was here was the summer before he went to Hogwarts. His mother took him on a trip to France for his birthday. Lucius was supposed to go with them but he was kept at home for ‘business.’ Draco wonders now if it was really business that kept him away or if it was something with the Death Eaters. He shudders and tugs down his left sleeve, trying to push the thought out of his mind.

He spots an elderly wizard enjoying his afternoon coffee while leisurely flipping through a newspaper. Draco sneaks a peek over the man’s shoulder and startles at a picture of Harry and one of the Patil twins. They’re dressed in traditional Indian robes that he doesn’t know the name for and they’re smiling, pressed close together as flower petals fall around them.

“Pardonne-moi monsieur,” Draco gets the wizard’s attention by putting his dusty French skills to use. “Puis-je emprunter votre journal?”

The man folds the section of the newspaper he was reading and hands it over to Draco. “Oui bien sûr.”

“Merci beaucoup.”

Draco dives into the newspaper article, reading what he can and making inferences to fill in what he can’t. He’s so absorbed in reading that he doesn’t hear Hermione come up behind him. “That’s a nice picture of Harry and Parvati. I keep trying to convince him to wear a kurta to Ministry events because it looks way better on him than traditional dress robes. Regardless, he’ll be quite mad if he finds out that the press got it into a newspaper all the way in France.”

“You knew about this??”

“Um, yes? So did you…I told you he was out of the country.”

“You said that but you didn’t say _why_ he was out of the country,” Draco growls. He goes to shove the newspaper back at the old man but he’s gone, so he crumples it up. Harry’s stupid face can still be seen smiling at Parvati.

“What’s gotten into you, Draco?”

What a loaded question. He hears a voice in his head that sounds suspiciously like Terry saying, _“You’re obsessed with him, Draco. Everyone can see it. I think you’re the only one that is still blind to the way you feel.”_ And the worst part is he knows it’s true. Dancing together at the gala in December is a day he’ll never forget. The article printed about them afterwards- complete with two color photographs- was actually not as bad as expected, but it still made Harry upset that speculations into his personal life were being made. He had firecalled Draco to let him know that he still wasn’t mad and that Oliver understood it was all blown way out of proportion. It didn’t lessen the disappointment on Draco’s end. For years he’s pined after the specky git, wholly believing that it was just a childhood crush that would go away some day. Now here he is at 21 and nothing has changed.

“Incendio.” Draco vanishes the ashy remains of his borrowed newspaper and stands, giving a smile to Hermione that he hopes doesn’t look too fake. He doesn’t want to hurt her feelings and he is genuinely looking forward to watching a good Quidditch match. “Don’t mind me; I just wasn’t expecting the foreign media to be as obsessed with Potter as the Prophet. Let’s get going, shall we?”

Hermione looks confused but decides it’s not worth pressing if Draco is willing to move on. “Alright, if you’re sure. They gave me the password for the portkey so we can activate it when we’re ready, and there’s a courtyard around back that has been sectioned off especially for a departure point.”

“After you,” Draco gives an overexaggerated bow, making Hermione laugh and relieving some of the tension between them. He’s pleased to note that he no longer has to force the smile on his face.

* * *

The stadium is packed but they’re able to push through the crowds and get to their reserved box easily enough, but that’s when they see they won’t be watching the match alone. Hermione waves to the wife of the Bulgarian Keeper and introduces Draco to her. She politely says hello but then immediately pulls Hermione into a hushed conversation about a famous person who is apparently in the box directly beside theirs. Draco would rather stay out of the gossip, and he’s surprised that Hermione isn’t doing the same. But perhaps she is simply blending in to her surroundings. He can’t blame her for that.

“Draco!” Hermione pulls him back into their chat. “Violeta says the creator of Pangory Cosmetics is here.”

Draco looks around as though he’ll be able to recognize them if he sees them. “Is that so? Does she know who it is?”

“She doesn’t know their names but apparently they’ve been more public around Paris lately. It _is_ just a rumor, but it might be worth it to go talk to them. If we’re wrong then we’ll apologize and no harm has been done.”

She’s absolutely right. Draco has been trying to find out more about the Pangory company since he saw the products being used by Lavender Brown. Then Harry expressed his interest in them and he doubled his efforts, but nothing ever turned up. He had discovered a historical record of the surname Pangory from a small village in rural Europe, but it was centuries old so that had led nowhere (it’s probably a coincidence that the cosmetic company even shares its name with the long-deceased family). And now he’s this close to finding out once and for all? Draco is definitely not going to pass up that chance. “Let’s do this quickly before the match starts.”

Hermione distracts the attendant waiting outside of the box by pretending to be lost and asking a lot of questions (it helps that she gets recognized as part of the Golden Trio and she’s able to use that to her advantage), so Draco is able to slip in behind her unnoticed. He hangs back and scans over the faces of everyone there. How is he supposed to tell who is whom? He has no idea if he’s even looking for a man or a woman. Hermione had said ‘them’ but who is Draco to judge a person’s chosen pronoun usage?

“Draco? Is that you?” A low voice asks from his left.

With wide eyes, he turns slowly on his heels to face the gigantic hulk of a man that is standing beside him. “Greg?”

“It _is_ you!” He hollers over his shoulder, “PANS! DRACO’S HERE!”

A high pitched squeal accompanies a blur of arms and legs. Draco thuds into the wall due to the force by which he is hit. Pansy has her arms around him and is somehow still bouncing up and down. The squealing only stops when Draco comes out of his stupor and reaches his own hands out to pat her on the back. “Pans. I-I never thought I’d see you guys again,” Draco says into her classy, bobbed hair.

Pansy finally pulls back to look into his face. “We should have contacted you, but it seemed like you had your life together and we didn’t want to ruin things for you.”

“What are you talking about? You could never ruin things for me! You’re my friends and I’ve missed you terribly. I’m the one who should be sorry for not reaching out sooner.”

Greg is fidgeting behind Pansy, and Draco knows there’s a bigger story here but now might not be the best time to talk about it. “I came here with Granger- don’t give me that look, she’s not as insufferable as she used to be- and I should get back, but can I meet up with you guys later?”

They both nod eagerly. “Of course,” Pansy tells him. “I’m so glad you found us. How did you even know we were here?”

“That’s the thing; I didn’t. I came in looking for the owners of Pangory Cosmetics and-” Draco freezes. How dim can he get? Pansy and Greggory are looking at each other nervously. “-and I’m just now realizing that I should have figured it out a long time ago.”

“Surprise?” Greg offers with a shrug and sheepish look.

Draco bursts out laughing. He hugs them both close and promises to be back after the match. When he gets back to his own box, Hermione is waiting impatiently by the railing. “Did you find them??” she wants to know.

“I did, and you’ll never believe who it was.”

“Tell me!”

“Pansy Parkinson and Greggory Goyle.”

Her mouth nearly falls open in shock. “You’re right; I don’t believe it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be continued...


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is! The continuation of last chapter.
> 
> Fair warning: Pansy shares about her past (which isn't too graphic), but then Draco has a panic attack and talks about his father abusing him (which is more graphic). Protect yourselves if that's not something you can/want to read.

In a terrible upset, Bulgaria loses the match. Draco expects Viktor to be mad or even upset, but the Seeker is more resigned than anything.

“Ve are not going to vin,” Viktor tells them sadly. “Zhis vill be my final year, I zhink.”

Greg seems more disappointed than anyone else. “You can’t! I’ve been fallowing you since after the Tri-Wizard Tournament and you’re the greatest!”

At least that gets a laugh out of Viktor. “Zhank you. And who ahre you, again?”

“This is my friend, Greggory Goyle,” Draco introduces him. “He and Pansy went to Hogwarts with me, Hermione, and Harry.”

Viktor shakes Greg’s hand then bows to Pansy, kissing the back of her outstretched hand. “Vill you be eating with us?”

“Yes…” Hermione says slowly. “That would be…great.”

She's not very convincing and Pansy doesn’t know what to make of this. Hermione certainly isn’t the same girl she went to school with if Draco is friends with her. But doesn’t she hate them? Doesn’t she wish they were all rotting away in Azkaban like the others?

Draco seems to sense Pansy’s uncertainty because he touches a hand to her arm and nods his head encouragingly. “I would really like it if you were there.”

She and Greg agree and they even suggest a wonderful muggle restaurant that they frequent. Conversation is stilted at first but all it takes is a few bottles of wine to loosen everyone up. They talk about their jobs because that is the safest topic, but there’s only so much that can be said about work. Draco starts bragging about Teddy and how smart he is and how much better he is at controlling his abilities now.

Pansy is smiling to beat the band. “I’m not surprised you’re so good with him; you’ve always wanted children.”

“Pans!” Draco’s cheeks are pink and only half because of the quantity of wine he’s consumed. “That was shared in confidence!”

“I thought you were bent?” Greg says with a tilt of his head.

Draco looks at Greg and just has to laugh. It’s no wonder Voldemort found him and Vince too dim to waste time on. And isn’t that a dark thought. Draco shakes it off and says, “I am, Greg. Cheers.”

Not taking the hint he goes on. “Then how can two blokes have kids? Is there some sort of potion?”

“Actually,” Hermione interrupts, “there is. It’s still in the experimental stage but it would allow a man to grow a temporary womb. They would have to be artificially inseminated and wouldn’t be able to birth the baby naturally, but it’s possible to carry a child.”

The entire table looks at her in shock. “Planning somezhing?” Viktor asks, breaking the awkward silence and making them all laugh.

Conversation moves on to what brought Pansy and Greg to France in the first place. They both clam up but after much prompting from Draco, Pansy tells them what it was like after the war.

“We got death threats, but that wasn’t what drove us away.” She looks down at her wine glass to avoid the pitying looks. “I can deal with threats. What I couldn’t deal with was the open attacks. The first one was superficial. It scared me more than hurt me. But then I made the mistake of going out again, and they decided I hadn’t learned my lesson.”

Draco feels like he’s about to be sick. “You don’t have to tell us. I’m sorry I pushed.”

“No. You need to know.” She squeezes Greg’s hand and then lets it go to reach for her wand.

She casts a non-verbal spell on her arms and they all watch as her flawless, milky complexion fades away to reveal a crisscrossed, puckered mass of scars. Hermione gasps, hand flying in front of her mouth.

“I couldn’t stay. I would have been killed. Greg was willing to go with me and as soon as we got here and knew we were someplace safe, we started gathering supplies and doing research to create something for my skin. I never thought we’d be so successful- or that we could help so many people- but I’ve always known we could never go back.”

Draco is beside himself. He can feel his breath coming out in rapid pants but he can’t keep it under control. He did this. He failed her. He failed all of his friends and his family. The Dark Mark on his arm burns. He scrabbles at his shirt sleeve, but then his hands are frozen and pinned to his sides. Someone’s put him in a full-body bind. It’s his father. He’s going to teach Draco a lesson. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he babbles, hoping it will stop him but knowing it will only make the punishment worse. “Please, I’m so sorry!” A wand is raised in his face and he blacks out just as the spell hits him.

* * *

Draco wakes with a gasp, bolting upright and immediately assessing his body for injuries. He’s surprised to find none. That’s when he looks around the room to try and figure out where he is. He doesn’t recognize the worn sofa he’s lying on or the gaudy wallpaper covering the room. But then Pansy is at his side and she’s handing him a glass of water. “I’m sorry, Draco.”

He dinks half the water in one gulp and then sips at the rest. When it’s all gone he shakes his head slowly. “ _I’m_ sorry. We were actually having a good time out together and I made you tell that story and then I…I…”

“Shhh,” she shushes him. “It’s alright. I just feel bad that I made you have that reaction. What was that?”

What it was, was embarrassing. Draco doesn’t want to explain himself but Pansy shared her worst so turnabout is fair play. “When Lucius was...displeased with my behavior, he would take me to a special room in the Manor. Then he would make sure I stayed still while he…while he…” Draco pinches his eyes shut but the ghostly image of his father torturing him still plays behind his eyelids. “He…was trying to teach me a lesson. But he never raised a hand to me, no. That would be too _muggle_ a punishment. He would hex me until I cried, begging him to stop, but then even that wasn’t enough. The Dark Lord told him to put me in my place and only one curse is strong enough to do that.”

Pansy is crying, silent tears running down her face. “Draco, stop. Please.”

“That’s what I would say. ‘Please, father! Stop! I’ll be good! I’ll fix the Vanishing Cabinet! I’ll get the Mark! Just make it stop!’ Too bad he never listened. Do you know I can’t feel the tips of my fingers or toes? I sunburned my nose last summer and couldn’t tell because I can never feel it anyway.” He snaps his eyes open and fixes them onto her. “Potter touched me and it was nothing.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Hermione whispers as she makes her presence from across the room known.

“What would have been the point? Prolonged exposure to the Cruciatus Curse causes severe damage. For some, like Longbottom’s parents, it was the neuropathways connected to their long-term memories. For me, it was the feeling in my extremities. Either way there’s nothing to be done.”

It’s quiet for a minute and then Pansy asks quietly, “Is that why you became a healer?”

“That’s part of it, but more than anything I just want to help people. I don’t want anyone to hurt ever again.”

Hermione reluctantly leaves Draco at Greg and Pansy’s home. She and Viktor return to the hotel after making him promise to be there in time for the return floo the next day. Greg sets up the bed in their spare room while Pansy makes Draco a cup of herbal tea, knowing it will help him relax. They are both there to tuck him into bed- something Narcissa rarely indulged him with growing up- and Draco has never been more thankful for his friends than he is right now.

* * *

The next morning is much more peaceful than the night before. Draco wakes slowly to the smell of rashers frying and coffee brewing. He gets out of bed and finds a spare set of clothes setting out on the settee at the end of his bed. They must be Greg’s since they hang off of Draco’s frame. He goes to shrink them but decides to wear them as-is, chuckling to himself as he pads into the kitchen. Greg laughs as well when he sees him but doesn’t saying anything other than, “Coffee?”

Normally, Draco would just drink tea but it smells amazing. He must wait too long to reply because Greg says, “I know you don’t usually go for the stuff, but Pans buys the good French kind. That’s all they drink here and you know how she always likes to fit in.”

Draco reaches out and makes grabby hands, making Greg laugh again. The mug is large and fits into his hands nicely. Draco inhales the steaming liquid and takes in the homey little kitchen. It’s decorated like a beach landscape, with blue walls and tan floors and seashells on everything. It’s not his style, but it’s also not his home. He shrugs and takes a sip of the coffee, moaning at the deliciously rich flavor.

Draco doesn’t say anything until after he’s thoroughly caffeinated. That’s one thing he forgot he missed about Greg; he isn’t afraid of a comfortable silence. “Where’s Pans?” he asks.

Greg spoons eggs, rashers, and toast onto a couple of plates. He sets one in front of Draco and drops into the kitchen chair opposite of him. “She’s meeting with one of our financial backers. She wants to pay them off so we can be independent. I keep telling her we need a solicitor but she thinks she can do it on her own.”

“She should talk to Hermione,” Draco says as he spreads marmalade on his toast.

“Are you really friends with her?” Greg asks.

“It’s come as a complete surprise to me as well, but yes. Though it is still a burgeoning friendship.”

He pushes eggs around his plate, looking a little out of his element. “She really cares about you, you know. She knocked you out when you were screaming at the restaurant so you wouldn’t draw unwanted attention. She said you’d be upset if you made it in the papers. And once we got here she never left your side unless it was to hold onto Krum.”

A little smile graces Draco’s face. If there’s one fact that is truly undisputed, it’s that Hermione protects her own like a fierce mother crup. Her actions the night before are proof of exactly how she feels about Draco. “It’s Potter’s fault. We’re friends too, I suppose.”

“That’s so strange.”

“Tell me about it.”

* * *

Pansy gets back just in time for Draco to leave. She hugs him tightly and promises to write. Draco tries to talk her and Greg into coming back home to visit but she firmly protests. “This is our home now,” she assures him. “But I’ll have an owl heading your way before you even step foot back in that old Manor.”

Not knowing the floo address to the hotel, Draco apparates right to the front entrance. Viktor and Hermione are already waiting for him at the small tables where Draco read the newspaper the day before. Hermione is nearly bouncing up and down, obviously wanting to ask Draco how he’s doing but not wanting to overwhelm him.

Draco puts her out of her misery and pulls her directly into a warm hug. “Thank you for saving me,” he whispers into her bushy hair.

She pulls back enough to look up into his face. “Draco, when will you get it through your head? Harry and I will always look after you, if you’ll let us.”

“I won’t be a weight for you to carry. The relationship will be reciprocated, I promise you.”

“I know.”

“How?”

“How what?”

“How can you ignore everything in our past?”

Hermione moves her hands to set on Draco’s shoulders and she shakes him gently with each of her words. “You. Are. More. Than. Your. Past.”

“But-”

“But nothing! I punched you in the nose, or do you not remember?”

Draco raises a hand towards his face but then catches himself, lowering it once more. “Of course I remember. You have a mean right hook.”

“And yet here we are.”

He nods, not able to say more. Viktor taps his watch and they walk toward the floo marked for international travel. Hermione and Viktor go through together and Draco follows after them. They arrive back at the Ministry within minutes of each other, parting ways with a fond farewell. When Draco gets back to the Manor he nearly collapses with relief in being home. Narcissa is there to greet him and she asks how his trip was. Draco tells her about the match, reuniting with Pansy and Greg, and even about seeing Potter’s picture in the newspaper. Narcissa listens to it all without commenting, which Draco is endlessly thankful for.

When he’s all done, Narcissa stands to go back to her study but Draco stops her. “Thank you for pushing me to spend time with Granger.”

“Oh, Draco. I’m so glad things worked out between the two of you. Shall I be expecting her around?”

“I don’t know if she’d want to come here considering…” he trails off but she knows what he’s implying.

“Regardless, your new friends are always welcome. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t interested in meeting with Mister Krum in person.”

“MOTHER!”

Narcissa waltzes out of the room, her light laughter floating through the corridors.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally this chapter just said: "something about Terry?" but I ended up scrapping the idea and just skipping ahead to the next chapter instead. So, sorry if you feel like you're not getting enough Terry/Draco backstory, but all you need to know is that it just didn't work out between them.

Draco yawns and checks his watch. He only has one hour to go on his shift in the Emergency Ward, and with each second that ticks by Draco is more sure that this is not where he wants to spend his time as a healer. He has a little less than a month until he takes his healer exams and then must decide his entire future. He’s worked in the Ministry-Assigned ward, the Maternity ward, with Magical Creature Attacks, the Memory ward, and now the Emergency ward. Draco thought he would enjoy them all, but most of the work is mundane. The only one that presented a real challenge was Magical Creature Attacks. Terry already knows that he wants to be a part of the Surgical healer team, but just the thought of slicing into people makes Draco feel sick.

He checks his watch again (it’s one whole minute later than the last time he looked) and lets his mind wander. Ever since the trip to France, he’s been spending more time with Hermione. They meet for lunch sometimes when her schedule brings her near St. Mungo’s. Other times he goes over to their flat and they play all sorts of muggle board games at the kitchen table while Harry cooks dinner. They make a point of never talking about the gala or Harry’s trip to India. One time Hermione suggested they go to the cinema and Draco absolutely loved it. They go once a month now, Harry joining them more often than not. And this weekend is set to be fun since they’re all planning on going to watch Viktor’s next match against Japan’s national team. It’s in Bulgaria this time and they are going to meet his family afterward. Even Oliver might make an appearance (though Draco rarely sees him, save for the few seconds it takes for Harry to drag him from the floo to his bedroom). But first, Draco has to make it through this shift that seems to be dragging by.

It’s quiet, with only two patients currently checked in and both of them are sleeping due to the potions they’ve been administered. The two mediwitches assigned with Draco are playing a game of cards at the entry desk. Their supervisors are both in their respective offices, filing the never-ending pile of paperwork that accompanies the job. It seems like they’re set for an uneventful end to their day but then the ward doors bang open and all hell breaks loose.

No less than twelve aurors stream into Emergency. Half of them are covered in blood; a few look worse. Draco pulls out his wand and sets off the alarm spell that all employees are taught to request more help. He immediately jumps into authoritative action, telling the mediwitches to start admitting them by order of necessity. Then he approaches one of the Senior Aurors and asks what happened.

“We were on a raid,” the auror explains. “It should have been textbook, but then word got out that Auror Potter was with us. Unbeknownst to us, we had started drawing a crowd and it tipped off the people we were surveilling. We got the order to go in so we followed protocol. They were waiting for us and we were ambushed.”

Draco pales at the mention of Harry. He knows his savior complex all too well. “Let me guess…Auror Potter felt like it was his fault and decided to could take them all himself?”

He nods grimly. “You guessed it. I feel for him, I really do, but he’s not to blame. Getting a cover blown could happen to anyone and at least this one wasn’t because of something he did. It was just because he’s _him_.”

Draco thanks the auror for the information and then makes his way to the rooms where the injured are already being tended to, thanks to the influx of mediwitches and healers from throughout St. Mungo’s that answered his call. He takes a deep breath and then strides into the first room to help.

* * *

Harry wakes up to the blinding whiteness that he has associated with the Hospital Wing at Hogwarts since his first year. It takes a moment to remember that he’s no longer a child and therefore would not be under Madame Pomfrey’s care. St. Mungo’s, then. Everything is blurry but that just means he’s not wearing his glasses. He moves his arm to get them from the bedside table and gasps in pain.

“You’re not supposed to move,” he hears a familiar voice drawl. “Your skin and deep tissues are still healing.”

“Draco?” Harry rasps out.

“I said don’t move.”

“Glasses,” he croaks, attempting to gesture towards it but finding his arms gently bound to his sides now.

The metal is cool against his skin as Draco slides the silver frames onto his face. Harry blinks several times, trying to get his bearings. When his vision focuses it is filled with nothing but Draco, bathed in light to the point where he seems ethereal (though Harry can’t decide if he looks more like a ghost or an angel).

He thinks he may have said that last bit out loud because Draco is rolling his eyes and saying, “That’s just the potions talking. They’ll be wearing off here soon.”

Draco then holds something up to Harry’s lips. It’s cold and wet and he instantly opens his mouth to let it slide in. “Ice chips,” he explains. “Patients often complain about their throat being dry after such a long time under charmed sleep.”

Harry tries not to moan at the feel of the cold water trickling down his throat. He waits until the entire cube of ice has melted before trying to speak again. “Thank you. How long was I out?”

“Seventeen hours.”

“And how long have you been watching over me?”

“Seventeen hours.” Draco busies himself with making notations on Harry’s charts- or, at least, pretending to- but he’s not quick enough and Harry notices then the dark rings under his eyes.

“Draco, how long were you here _before_ I was brought in?”

“The aurors came in right at the end of my standard eight-hour shift.”

Harry does some quick mental maths and gasps. “That’s over twenty four hours you’ve been working! And you probably haven’t slept in longer. Have you at least eaten something?”

Draco snaps at him, “I’ll have you know that Blaise and Hermione have been taking turns coming in and harassing me just fine! They started bringing in coffee and sandwiches, at least. So yes, I have been eating. Not that it’s any worry of _yours_.”

“Hermione’s been here?”

“Of course! I had to practically hex her out of that chair, she was so set on not leaving your side. The only reason she’s not here now is because of Krum’s match, which she didn’t want to go to if it meant leaving you. I had to firecall Krum and get him to take her back with him. And the Weasel is sleeping off his own injuries in the next room over or else I’m certain he’d be in here as well.”

Harry’s face pales further, if that’s even possible. “How is Ron?”

“He’s fine. You got the worst of it, though I’m sure you already knew the risk of your little hero act.”

“It wasn’t a ‘hero act’! It was my fault we were found out!” Harry pleads, pulling against his restraints.

Draco lays a warm hand on his shoulder and tells him to relax. “Your supervisor said it happens sometimes and that it was not your fault.”

Harry struggles some more before finally slumping back against the bed. His arms and legs are sore and he feels like he just went ten rounds against a hippogriff. There’s sweat on his forehead and he wishes he could wipe it off, but even if he could move his arms he doesn’t think he’d have the energy to do so. He yawns wide and fights to keep his eyes open. “Did you give me something? I feel exhausted.”

“No, I told you before; you’re healing. Just close your eyes and sleep some more.”

“I will under one condition.” He fights off the fatigue as best he can.

“Oh?” Draco has to chuckle at his stubbornness, even now. “And what condition may that be, dear Chosen One?”

It speaks to just how far gone Harry is that he doesn’t comment on the nickname. “You need to sleep too.”

“I’m working.”

“Your shift was over-” he yawns again “-hours ago. Transfigure that chair into something comfortable and sit your pale arse down or I’ll call for help until someone makes you do it.”

Draco shakes his head with a smile. Something in Harry’s tone says not to tempt him, so he does as he’s been ordered. He transfigures the standard wooden chair into a plush recliner. Then he sinks down into it, not being able to hold back a pleased sigh.

Harry smirks triumphantly as his eyes slip closed.

* * *

The next time Harry wakes up, it’s to the bellowing of his best friend.

“What do you mean I can’t see him??”

A voice that Harry can’t place but he thinks must be a mediwitch replies, “I already explained this, Auror Weasley. Auror Potter’s injuries were quite severe and he needs to rest.”

“You let Hermione go in there! And I won’t keep him from healing, I promise. It’s been nearly two days! I’ll just sit and wait for him to wake up. I-I…I can’t let him wake up alone. _Somebody_ should be there when he wakes up.”

Harry is touched by Ron’s sentiment. Things between them have been alright, but still strained. This is the first time he’s been sure that Ron still has his back just like he did when they were young. He hears the mediwitch sigh and let Ron into his room. Harry rolls his head toward the door to watch Ron walk in.

“Blimey!” Ron shouts when he finds Harry already awake. “You’re up! They said you’d still be out for a while still!”

“Shhhh. Draco’s sleeping.”

“What are you on about, mate?”

Harry looks around as best he can. There is no more transfigured chair and no more Draco. “I thought…” he trails off. Maybe he just dreamt the whole thing?

Thinking exactly the same thing, Ron gives him a squinty look of concern. “How many potions did they give you? The ferret isn’t here.”

“Stop it, Ron. He has a name. And you’d find he’s not so bad if you’d actually take the time to get to know him.”

“I know enough.” Ron folds his arms tightly across his chest.

Harry throws his head back, exasperated. “Could you at least go find a healer and have them remove these binding spells? I don’t think I need them anymore.”

Ron pulls his wand and removes them himself. Then he drops into the wooden chair beside Harry’s bed and kicks his feet up on the side table. “You’d think they’d have some kind of security on their spells, especially with you being, well, _you_.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Harry slowly sits up, stuffing the lumpy pillows behind him so he can lean against the headboard. His muscles are still sore but he feels better than the last time he was conscious, however long ago that was. Ron doesn’t budge to help.

“I just mean that you’re an important person, is all.”

“Every patient is important.”

“I know that, but these people owe their lives to you.”

“Ron…” Harry clenches his jaw.

He puts his hands up defensively. “I know, I know, you hate when anyone brings that up. But it doesn’t make it any less true.”

“Me being famous almost got us all killed.”

“At least it wasn’t because of incompetence. Nobody blames you.”

“I can’t stay on the force. We’ll never get any work done.”

Ron’s feet hit the floor with two consecutive thuds. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying,” Harry lets out a huge breath. “I’m saying…that maybe being an auror isn’t for me. I keep getting hurt, fighting isn’t fun, and I’ll never be any good in field work so long as I get recognized. I don’t want to be stuck doing paperwork for the rest of my life.”

“But-but-but… Harry! This has been our plan since fifth year! We were always going to be aurors together! _Together._ ”

“I would have been happy just holing myself up in Grimmauld Place, but I convinced myself that I needed to do something useful.”

“Exactly! And what’s more useful than an auror?”

“No, Ron, you’re missing the point. Being an auror was just a child’s dream. At least, it was to me.”

Ron is quiet for long enough that Harry is starting to regret telling him all of this. But then he raises his head slowly. “If you stop being an auror, then we won’t be friends anymore.”

“Is that a threat? You’re seriously threatening me??” Harry is glad he doesn’t have his wand on him because he’d either snap it in half or hex Ron into oblivion.

“No! Nonono! I just mean…we hardly see each other unless it’s at work. You’re always with Oliver or Hermione and Viktor; even bloody Malfoy sees you more than I do! And you still don’t come to the Burrow on Sundays unless Mum guilts you into it. It’s like you’re not even my friend anymore.”

The hurt in Ron’s eyes is so obvious that suddenly Harry realizes how stupid he’s been to think he was the only one suffering. A voice that sounds a lot like Healer Mason echoes through his mind saying, _‘You should have talked to him sooner. Then you would have known how he feels.’_

“Ron, I am so sorry. I’m an awful friend if I made you feel that way. I have to admit, though, that I’ve felt the same way since everything ended. It’s like there’s been this…thing…between us and it’s killing me. I don’t want it to be like this. I want us to be how we used to be.”

“Then don’t quit the aurors,” he all but whispers.

Harry hears Hermione in his head telling him it’s okay to cry. “I’m sorry,” he chokes out as the first tears start to fall.

Ron doesn’t say anything. He just sits there and stares at the pitiful remains of what used to be. Then, as slowly as possible, as though he’s hoping Harry will change his mind and try to stop him, Ron gets to his feet and backs out of the room.

Harry keeps looking at the empty doorway until it starts to go blurry. He sniffs once and then it’s as though a dam has burst. He’s openly sobbing for the loss of his best friend. Harry sees himself with Ron on the train to Hogwarts their first year, sharing a pile of sweets from the trolley. He sees Ron stepping up to protect him and Hermione even though his leg was already broken. He sees Ron becoming Keeper and getting better and better until he finally leads their Quidditch team to victory. He sees Ron following him into the Chamber of Secrets without a second thought. Countless days spent in the tall grasses of the Burrow. Countless nights spent hanging out with their friends in Gryffindor Tower. It’s all so heartbreakingly bittersweet that an unnatural cry rips from his chest. So- predictably- that’s when Draco appears in the doorway.

“Harry? Mediwitch Stephens told me that Weasley was here and that you were—Harry? HARRY?” Draco rushes to his bedside. “What is it? Where does it hurt?”

Harry shakes his head as he continues to cry.

As much as Draco wants to panic, he takes a deep breath and moves into healer mode. He casts every diagnostic charm he can think of. His injuries from two days prior are healing well enough and there doesn’t seem to be a medical reason for Harry’s pain. So what has him in hysterics? The only thing he can imagine would be if the weasel said something to upset him. A sudden surge of anger courses through Draco. If he runs into that stupid ginger, he’s going to wring his freckly neck. But he doesn’t dare voice any of this in fear of making things worse.

“Harry,” he says gently. When he gets no reply, he leans his hip onto the bed next to Harry and slowly sets an arm around his shoulders. Harry instantly leans into him. Draco knew he was small but he feels practically tiny in his arms. “I don’t know what he did but I’m going to force him to make it right again. I promise you that.”

Harry knows that they’re empty words, empty promises, but he so badly wishes it were true. He nods his head anyway, letting Draco provide him the comfort he desperately needs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It will probably be another week until I can update. Thanks for reading & commenting!!!!


	10. Chapter 10

Healer Mason prides herself on being a professional. She hears witches and wizards tell her all sorts of secrets and suppressed memories, and she listens to them all with nothing more than a slight nod and the scratch of her quill. On occasion she’ll allow herself a quirk of the eyebrow or a slight smile. But this news is different and she can’t help but drop her quill in shock. “You quit your job?”

“Erm, well, yes?” Harry stammers. He thought she would be happy to hear that he’s finally standing up for himself. “Is that…not…okay?”

“Is that what you want, Harry?” she asks cautiously.

“I’ve thought about this for a long time. It started right after the war, then again when I found out my boss was using illegal curses to ‘train’ me, but when I got badly injured I just knew. I’m done being an auror.”

Healer Mason quickly composes herself, giving Harry a genuinely proud smile. “It’s good that you’re taking care of yourself.”

Harry is ashamed of how nice it feels to be praised. He knows he’s messed up, but sometimes he thinks he could get off on that alone. He craves praise more than he craves physical contact- not that Oliver understands when he tries to explain it. He hasn’t shared this particular kink with Healer Mason and he isn’t about to do so now. He simply says, “Thank you.”

She writes a few notes into Harry’s file before looking back up at him. “Have you thought about what you might like to do next? I’m not trying to pressure you; you can take all the time you need to decide. I was only asking if you had thought about it or not.”

Harry has thought about this a lot- especially on the nights when he tries to fight off the urge to take Dreamless Sleep. “I joined the aurors because it was the right thing to do to be helpful. I also wanted to stay with Ron, but now he won’t even look at me. I was hoping that whatever I do next would let me help other people again while letting me work with my friends?”

“That’s a very good start, Harry. Are any of your friends in need of immediate help?”

“George is still struggling. Lee- that’s his boyfriend- told me he’s refusing to open his shop again. Maybe I could help him do that? I am the original investor in Weasley Wizard Wheezes, after all.”

Healer Mason practically beams at him and once again lays on the praise. “You’ve mentioned time and again how you have more money than you know what to do with. I think this would be a great project for you, if your friend is willing.”

“I’m pretty sure George doesn’t hold a grudge against me like Ron does. I just don’t know where I would even start.”

“Let’s make that your homework for the week, then. Reach out to him and anyone else who you trust. Also think about what else you might want to do, in case your friend George does not want to move forward in the same direction as you do.”

Harry thanks Healer Mason for her time and slips out of her office. He almost sprints to the nearest apparition point so that he can get to Andromeda’s. That’s been the best part of no longer having a job; he gets to spend as much time with Teddy as he wants. He lands on he lands on the short gravel lane that leads to their front door. He runs a hand through his disheveled hair in a misguided attempt at smoothing it down (apparating really does a number on it).

“You really should think about cutting that disaster,” a smooth voice drawls behind him.

Harry doesn’t jump. He’s all too used to the way that Draco is constantly sneaking up on him by now. And he must have been taught it from his mother because Narcissa does the exact same thing. He’s not sure if Andromeda never learned how to do that or if she’s just too polite to do it to Harry, but either way he’s thankful. “You know you like my hair long,” he teases instead of getting frustrated.

Draco trails his index finger along the back of Harry’s neck, twirling it around one of the dark curls. He can feel the way the other man shivers at the contact. He should stop but he doesn’t want to. Draco leans in close and whispers low into Harry’s ear, “You’re right. I do.”

This can’t be real. Harry is sure he must be sleeping because Draco would only act this way in a dream. Right? And it would have to be a dream brought on from the sheer exhaustion of multiple nights of no sleep. Right?? He stumbles forward suddenly from the force of being shoved.

“For Salazar’s sake, Potter…you are so easy!” Draco chuckles as he walks around Harry and towards the house.

“Wait a minute!” Harry jogs to catch up. “So you weren’t flirting with me just now?”

“One…you’re currently seeing Oliver Wood- in case you’ve forgotten- and I’m not so much of a monster that I would try to lead you astray. And two…” he turns on his heal, leaning in to talk low in Harry’s face, “if I was flirting with you, you’d know it.”

Harry is doing his best impression of a fish, letting his mouth flop open and shut, when he hears the front door open and a purple-haired boy streams down the lane towards them. “Harrrryyyyy! Draaaacooooo!”

Just as he gets close to them, his little feet get tripped up on the loose stones and he tumbles onto his hands and knees.

“Just like his mother, that one,” Harry says with a fond shake of his head.

For all that Teddy claims to be a ‘big boy’ now, he can’t keep himself from whimpering. His bottom lip pooches out and Harry is at his side in an instant. He pulls his godson into his arms and holds him close.

“You’re alright, Ted. It’s okay,” he coos as he rocks the boy back and forth.

Teddy hiccoughs as tears run down his face. He turns to snuggle into Harry’s chest but his knees sting too much to do so. “M-m-m-my kn-n-n-ees,” he stutters out.

Draco is there before Harry can even call for him. He has his wand out and he carefully pushes aside the ripped trousers and removes the stones from Teddy’s skin. They haven’t cut deep, but the little boy jerks each time Draco pulls one out. “You’re doing so well, Edward. You just hold onto Harry as tight as you can. He’s a tough auror; he can take it.”

“N-not n-no more,” Teddy tells him.

“What’s that?” He risks a glance up at Harry only to be met with an irritated expression.

Harry sighs. “I quit. That’s what Ron and I fought about in the hospital.”

With all the stones now gone, Draco casts a healing spell and then a cleaning charm on Teddy’s little knees. Then he mends the trousers, matching navy thread coming out of his wand to stitch the fabric together. “So that’s what brings you here in the middle of the afternoon.”

“H-he plays with me all the time now.”

“It must be nice to see your godfather so much.”

“And! And! And now you’re here, too!” Teddy’s tears have once more given way to excitement. “We can play together! Did you know that Harry has a Snitch? He says you’re _really_ good at catching it, but not as good as him.”

Draco throws his head back and laughs with abandon. “Why am I not surprised that Potter is spreading a pack of lies about me?”

“Who’s ‘Potter’?”

“It’s my second name,” Harry explains. “Draco just calls me that when he’s feeling cheeky.”

“What do you call him when _you_ want to be feeling cheeky?”

Harry cups his hand around Teddy’s ear and whispers secretively to him. Teddy erupts in giggles, clapping his hands over his mouth when Draco glares at the pair of them. Draco folds his arms grumpily across his chest and warns, “You know what they say about little wizards who keep secrets, right?”

Teddy looks at him with eyes growing unnaturally large. “No,” he breathes out. “What do they say?”

“They say…” He looks over his shoulder as though to check that the coast is clear. “They say that… THE LAST ONE TO THE HOUSE IS A ROTTEN EGG!”

Draco pushes up from the ground and uses his long legs to propel himself up the lane. He can hear Teddy and Harry’s cries of ‘no fair!’ and ‘cheating prat!’ but he doesn’t slow down. His laughter cuts through the afternoon air as he nears the front of the house. He’s almost to the door when a loud *crack* sounds in front of him. Harry, holding Teddy to his left hip, are suddenly there. They must have apparated! And they only have a moment to celebrate their win before Draco slams into them. All three go tumbling into the door, but then the door is gone and they’re crashing into Andromeda’s foyer. They land in a pile of screams and tangled limbs.

“Boys.”

Draco cranes his neck as far as he can from his current position somehow both above and below Harry. “Andromeda. You’re having a pleasant day, I hope?”

The side of her mouth tilts up on one side. “Not as pleasant as yours, it would seem.”

Teddy doesn’t understand the meaning of her words, but he understands his grandmother’s facial expression well enough to know she’s teasing Draco. He giggles, wiggling himself out from between the two. “He’s a rotten egg, Gran’ma!”

Andromeda puts a hand over her mouth to hide her growing amusement. “Is that so?”

“Uh-huh! Harry and I beat him to the door.”

“Only because you cheated,” Draco whines.

“Only because _you_ cheated _first_ ,” Harry counters.

They still haven’t picked themselves up from the floor and Andromeda can only shake her head at them. To Teddy she offers, “What do you say we leave this pair of stinky-egg-cheaters to sort out their disagreement, and you and I can go get a snack from the kitchen?”

“Biscuits!” the boy cries and runs off in search of sweets with Andromeda following after him.

Harry and Draco realize at the same time that they’re still laying on top of each other in the front hall. Harry jerks his body to a sitting position only to smack his forehead into Draco’s.

“Watch it, you plonker.” Draco rubs at his forehead with his free hand. “And get off my arm; you’re not as scrawny as you used to be.”

He moves to let Draco up. “Are you checking me out?”

Draco tsks as he stands. “Wishful thinking, Potter. I told you already- you would know if I were flirting with you.” He offers his hand to pull Harry up off the floor.

Harry looks at Draco’s hand as though it holds more meaning than a simple helpful gesture, and maybe it does. The last time they were like this was half a lifetime ago. They were nothing but little kids, bright eyed and naïve. Harry reaches his right hand up and lets Draco pull him to his feet, but doesn’t let go once he’s standing.

“I should have taken your hand our first year,” Harry admits quietly.

“No,” Draco says, squeezing their still-joined hands. “You were right not to. I was awful back then.”

“You were eleven. Show me an eleven-year-old who isn’t at least part awful.”

“Longbottom, probably.”

Harry smiles at the thought of his plant-loving friend. “You’re probably right.” Then he reluctantly pulls away from Draco.

“So,” Draco says after an awkward silence.

“So.”

“You quit the aurors.”

It’s not a question, but Harry answers anyway. “Yes. Like I said, that’s what had Ron so mad.”

“He got what he deserved for treating you that way, just so you know.”

“Oh no, Draco. What did you do?”

“Nothing too bad or illegal, I promise.” When Harry doesn’t seem to believe him, he drops the bomb. “Lavender helped.”

Harry’s jaw nearly hits the floor. “You cannot be serious. Lavender Brown helped you get revenge on the love of her life? Her wittle Won-Won?”

“Gross.”

“Tell me about it.”

Draco takes him by the elbow and leads him towards the kitchen so they can get back to their visit with Teddy. “I won’t go into details, but yes she helped me because she agrees that Weasley was way out of line with the way he treated you. All of the Weasleys know it, actually.”

“You’ve talked to the other Weasleys??” This is not any version of Draco that he has gotten to know over the years. It’s definitely not the Draco from his childhood but it’s not even the Draco who hangs out with Hermione or comes over for a drink after a long day at work. “What has gotten into you?”

“Again, it was all Lavender. She just passed along the message to me that they’re also disgusted with him and that they want a second chance, though they don’t think they deserve one anymore. And nothing has ‘gotten into me’ thank you very much. I just told Lavender that I’d pass along her message.”

Harry smirks, “You care about me.”

“Ha! In your dreams.”

“Scared, Draco?”

He pushes past him into the kitchen. “You wish.”

* * *

After a snack and an afternoon of catching the Snitch (Teddy switching between riding with Harry on his broom and then with Draco on his), Harry bids them all good-bye and apparates to the Burrow. He lands in the tall grasses with a thump. “I’m definitely taking the floo back,” he says to himself as he pushes to his feet for what feels like the tenth time today. Gnomes run across the toes of his trainers as he stands at the door to the kitchen. All he has to do is knock. So why is it so hard? He gathers all of his Gryffindor courage and lifts his fist, but the door opens before he even has the chance.

Lee Jordan is grinning on the other side. “Harry’s here!” he cheers over his shoulder.

George’s pale, drawn face appears over his shoulder. “Harry? Can’t be. That bloke never comes around anymore.”

For a second, the light is back in his eyes from the teasing. But as just as quickly as it appears it’s gone again. It’s sad to say, but this is an improvement from the way George was looking a year ago. At least now his clothes seem clean and his hair washed. Harry supposes that a few baby steps are better than nothing, but he’d like to see George back to the way he used to be.

“Well, don’t just stand there,” he says to Harry. “Come on in. Mum and Dad are at Fleur and Bill’s for dinner, so it’s just us.”

Harry walks in and revels in the way that the Burrow is ever unchanging. There are dishes cleaning themselves in the sink, a tea kettle on the hob, and several half-finished knitting projects laid across the backs of the chairs. It smells of freshly baked bread and warmth (if warmth could have a smell). On the way through the kitchen, Lee tells him that Molly has been teaching him how to cook and knit. He admits with a laugh that he doesn’t mind being turned into a housewife.

“Now what brings you all the way out to our humble abode?” Lee asks once they’re settled onto the sofas in the living room.

Several things click into place all at once for Harry. “Wait a minute…do you live here, Lee?”

He grips George’s hand in his own, rubbing his thumb over the other’s knuckles. “George and I wanted to move in together, and Molly and Arthur were very generous in letting us change some of the rooms around to accommodate.”

“Wow, that’s great! Congratulations, guys. I mean it.”

Another small smile grace’s George’s face and it lasts a little longer than the previous one.

They continue to make small talk and catch up. Harry feels bad about avoiding them for so long. He never wanted his feud with Ron to affect everyone, but that’s just one of his many regrets. He waits until a natural lull in their conversation to bring up reopening Wheezes. George instantly stands up and skulks out of the room.

Lee sighs but doesn’t move to follow after him. “I’m sorry, Harry. I would have warned you ahead of time had I known you were coming. George has no desire to open the shop back up.”

“He won’t even talk to me about it?”

“It’s just too painful for him.”

Harry wracks his brain for a solution. “What if I ran the shop and he just did the behind-the-scenes inventing?”

“Harry…”

“He doesn’t even have to do it now! All of our friends are super talented. I’m sure there’s something everyone would want me to sell. I could just run a general store and then if George changes his mind, I’ll be ready!”

“HARRY!” Lee yells at him to get his attention. “George isn’t ready. He may never be. You’re just going to have to accept that.”

Harry feels bad that he pushed George away, but he just got so excited about the idea. He apologizes to Lee and asks him to pass on his apologies to George as well. Then he leaves the Burrow with his head hanging.

Unbeknownst to him, George watches Harry go from his upstairs bedroom window. He walks over to his closet and speaks the secret incantation to activate the hidden space within. When he opens the door, his clothes and shoes are all gone. In their place are stacks upon stacks of parchment and failed inventions littered on the floor. George picks up an overstuffed journal and gently runs his fingers across the embossed letters. “Freddie, what am I doing?” he whispers.

George’s hand shakes as he opens the journal to a random page. Tears fall on his brother’s handwriting. This was their shared dream, their young lives’ work. He clacks the journal closed and holds it close to his chest. “Give me the strength I’ve been missing. I want to do this, but I don’t think I can without you.”

He knows it’s all in his head but he swears he can hear, “I’ve always got your back, Georgie,” in response from the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the sad ending, but I just feel like life would be hardest for George.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize in advance for using Oliver Wood as a plot device. I genuinely love his character, but this is the culmination of all the little hints and pieces dropped into the story along the way. If you were looking for more Harry/Oliver than I also apologize for that, I just wanted to focus more on Harry and Draco.
> 
> :) ENJOY!

Hermione and Draco go out one weekend to buy Harry a new owl when they know he already has plans with Oliver. They open the door to the flat and walk right in to the middle of a heated conversation between Harry and Oliver.

“You’re always busy,” Oliver accuses him with a scowl.

“I _work_ , Ollie. I’m trying to put together a legitimate business proposal and it's been taking up a lot of my time.”

“And I _don’t work_? I’m sorry you think being a professional Quidditch player isn’t good enough. At least I didn't quit.”

“Oh please!” Harry scoffs. “You know I love that you get to play Quidditch for a living!”

“Then why do you refuse to be seen with me after my matches?”

“I don’t want the press to get a picture of us.”

“Do you not understand why that would make me feel like you’re embarrassed to even be seen with me?”

“I’m not embarrassed of you! I’m trying to keep our private life private.”

Oliver runs his hands through his hair and lets out a loud breath. “It’s not just that.”

“I still don’t understand what the big deal is.” Harry’s jaw is clenched and his arms are folded tightly across his chest.

Oliver dramatically rolls his eyes. “The ‘big deal’ is that we never do anything.”

“We do things all the time!”

“You know what I’m talking about.”

“No, I don’t. Maybe you’d like to enlighten me?”

“We never shag! You freak out every time I try to take our snogging to the next level. And don’t even get me started on the fact you can only sleep if you take those potions.”

Harry’s face goes red but it’s not from embarrassment. He’s downright livid. “I told you upfront what was wrong with me!!” he screams so harshly that Draco and Hermione both jump back towards the door.

“Sure, you said you had a few hang-ups about your scars but I thought that eventually you’d get over it- or, at the very least, just trust me enough to give me a chance.”

“Well you thought wrong! I’m broken and fucked up and I’m never going to get any better!”

“Harry, look, that’s not what I-”

“Get out.”

“Harry-”

“I SAID GET OUT!”

Oliver hangs his head and doesn’t look up as he walks to the floo. He tosses in the powder and is gone with a murmur and a burst of green flames. It’s only then that Harry lets himself feel. He reaches for the nearest thing- in this case, it’s a carved wooden chess set that he got from the Weasley boys one year for Christmas- and hurls it across the room. The pieces clatter to the floor and the board makes a dent in the wall.

“Oh, Harry,” Hermione says, barely above a whisper.

But it’s loud enough for Harry to hear and he whips his head around at the sound, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. “Hermione? Draco? When did you two get here??”

She averts her eyes, not daring to look at Harry directly.

Draco speaks for both of them, saying, “Long enough.”

“Brilliant. I’m sure you both hate me now, too, so feel free to leave me the hell alone.” Harry stomps off in the direction of his bedroom with Hermione following close behind.

Wanting to give them adequate privacy, Draco decides to take a turn around the room. He’s definitely not snooping, he tells himself, he’s just taking in the small details he usually looks past when he visits. He sets down the new owl’s cage (where she is sleeping peacefully) by the front window and walks over to the fireplace, the top of which is filled with framed photographs.

There is one of Harry’s parents dancing together as leaves fall around them. Draco never knew the Potters but he’d recognize them anywhere. Harry looks just like his father, and his mother bears a striking resemblance to Ginerva Weasley. _‘No wonder things didn’t work out between them,”_ he thinks to himself with a smirk. But the smirk dies away at the next photograph. Harry’s parents feature again, but they’re with Remus Lupin and Sirius Black. All four surround a tiny baby which must be Harry. Draco knows that his own parents are a few years old than the Potters, but he never realized just how young they must have been when Harry was born. He thinks he’s about the same age now than they were when the picture was taken. They all look so happy, so unaware of what was to come. He has to forcibly turn the picture away.

There are a few non-moving snapshots that must be Hermione’s. Draco assumes that the couple with bushy hair and big teeth are her parents, and his theory is confirmed in the next photograph where she is standing proudly between them.

Then there’s a picture of Teddy next to a blonde-haired baby girl that he doesn’t recognize, one of Hermione and Viktor bundled up in the snow, and one of Harry and Oliver chasing each other around the Quidditch pitch on their brooms.

Next to those are a few photographs that he is sure Harry would like to burn. The first shows Viktor, Harry, Fleur, and Cedric from the Tri-Wizard Tournament. Harry looks so uncomfortable and young compared to the other three. Looking back, Draco wonders how anyone could have thought Harry put himself into that dangerous competition. It’s so obvious in hindsight that he wanted nothing to do with any of it.

The second must have been taken right after the war. It’s of Harry, Hermione, and Ron receiving some commendation from the Minister. Draco doesn’t understand how Ron could be so stupid as to push away Harry and Hermione. They were inseparable once. Neither Harry nor Hermione talk about the fight, but it all seems so pointless.

Speaking of fights…Draco pulls himself away from the pictures to pick up the pieces of the chess set that Harry broke. He tries to not be impressed by the large dent in the wall- Harry must have really packed on the muscle when he was an auror. Draco knows enough repairing spells from having to fix up the Manor for his mother, so he quickly has the wall back to the way it was before Harry’s expression of anger. The chess set itself is not so easily put back together. The pieces have been hand carved and the board inlayed with differing kinds of wood to create the distinctive pattern.

Draco gets so absorbed in his work that he sort of forgets his surroundings. It isn’t until a door slams somewhere in the flat that he remembers where he is and what has happened. He hears someone padding quietly towards him but is surprised to find that it’s Harry and not Hermione. He walks past Draco and directly to the now-repaired wall. He runs his hand across the area and then, without even looking at him, thanks Draco for his help.

“I’m really sorry you had to see that. And you _really_ didn’t have to stay to clean up after me.”

Draco lifts a shoulder but otherwise keeps working on the chess board. “It’s no problem. We all have moments we’re less than proud of.”

“You’re probably wondering about what Oliver said, and I just want to let you know-”

“Stop right there, Harry.” Draco finally sets down the pieces to look him in the eye. “I told you that first time I saw you again at your auror physical: we all have scars, both visible and unseen. You don’t have to defend yourself, especially to me, but not to anyone. You deserve to be with someone who respects you enough to understand that.”

“I…damnit.” Harry wipes at his eyes with the back of his hand. “I really need to stop getting emotional in front of you.”

“I don’t mind.”

Maybe it’s the words Draco says, or maybe it’s the earnest way he says them, or maybe even it’s the kind and open expression on his face- but whatever the reason Harry believes him. He knows that Draco is speaking from a place of understanding and empathy, not pity like Hermione and so many others do.

“Do you want to go get pissed at the Leaky?” Harry asks.

“You don’t mind being seen with me?”

“No, why would I?”

Draco’s thoughts go to Harry’s wish to stay out of the Daily Prophet (a main reason he stated for not going out publicly with Oliver), but decides against bringing up that point just now. “If you’re sure…”

Harry is already grabbing a jumper from the back of the back of the sofa. “Let me just leave a note so ‘Mione doesn’t worry.” He tacks a hastily scrawled message to her bedroom door and then is back and ready to go. “Do you need to stop at home first?”

Draco shakes his head no. “I have money on me already from when Hermione and I went out.” That reminds him of the birthday owl waiting for Harry just on the other side of the room, but now doesn’t seem like the best time. It can wait until later. “Although I do wish I was wearing some proper robes.”

“Let loose a little, Draco. You’re already dressed in a button-down shirt and nice trousers, making me and everyone else look like peons by comparison. I hardly think a cloak or robes is necessary.”

“If you say so.” He stands and follows Harry to the fireplace. “Would you like me to go first?”

His cheeks pink just enough to be noticeable. “Do you mind? I’m not the best at floo travel and it helps to have someone waiting for me.”

“Of course I don’t mind. I’ll see you on the other side, Harry.”

* * *

They don’t talk about much. They just start drinking. And then they keep drinking. And then everything gets sort of fuzzy.

* * *

Harry and Draco stagger into the flat later that evening, accidently banging the front door into the wall. “Shhhh!!!” Harry slurs, holding an index finger up to his lips. “You’ll wake ‘Monie.”

“Who’s ‘Monie?” Draco slurs back.

“You know,” Harry waves his hand in the general direction of their bedrooms. “My bes’ frien’ ‘Monie!”

“Shhhh!!!” Draco puts his own index finger to Harry’s lips, but pulls it back when Harry licks it in retaliation for getting shushed. “Tha’s disgusting, Potter.”

“‘m Harry, not Potter, ‘member?”

“Tha’s disgusting, Harry.” They both break into drunken giggles.

“You’re both disgusting,” Hermione says as she steps out from the shadows.

“I’s ‘Monie!” Harry stumbles over to her and drapes his arms over her shoulders. “I love you, ‘Monie.”

She wrinkles up her nose but doesn’t push him away. “I love you too, Harry, but I think it’s time for the two of you to get to bed.”

Harry pulls back like he’s been burnt. “‘m not sleepin’ with him, ‘Monie.” Then he leans in and conspiratorially whispers, “He’s got a boyfriend.”

“So do you,” she reminds him. “But that wasn’t what I was implying. You go to your room and sleep, and Draco can use the sofa.”

“Noooooo! He’s a guest! He can sleep in my room.” He turns to Draco but he moves too quickly and gets dizzy. Hermione has to reach an arm out and support him so he doesn’t end up on his face. “Draco, you can sleep in my room.”

“I should go home,” Draco insists.

“Yeah right,” Hermione says with a huff, already shoving Harry to the sofa. “And get yourself killed in the floo? Not a chance. Let me make sure this one gets settled and then I’ll show you to his room.”

“Cheers.”

“CHEERS!” Harry shouts, lifting his hand as though he’s still holding a mug. He looks down at his empty hand sadly.

Hermione rolls her eyes and tosses a blanket over Harry. “This way, Draco.”

She leads him down the short, narrow corridor and into what is instantly recognizable as Harry’s bedroom. The walls are decorated with Puddlemere posters and Gryffindor paraphernalia. She digs through Harry’s wardrobe for sleep bottoms. She tosses one pair to Draco and then takes the other back out to Harry. When she comes back, she helps Draco into the bed and tucks the blankets around him.

“Thanks, Hermione,” he tells her from under the soft covers.

“You’d do the same for me, I’m sure. And at least you’re still capable of pronouncing my name. And dressing yourself.” She shudders. “Just don’t go running away in the morning, alright? I think we should talk.”

Draco nods sleepily, yawning wide enough to make his jaw crack. Hermione leans down and swipes the hair away from his forehead as his eyes start to close. “Sleep well.”

Just as she’s pulling the door closed behind her she can hear Draco murmur, “Night, Mum.”

* * *

Harry stirs as he hears a persistent hoot. For a second he thinks it’s Hedwig but, like every time he hears an owl, he has to remind himself that she’s no longer alive. The hooting gets louder so Harry wraps his arms around his ears with a groan. Why is his head pounding? And who let the owl in the house? Hermione knows how he feels about them.

Blissfully, the hooting stops after a minute or so. But then a high-pitched screech startles Harry right off the sofa. He lands on the floor with a thud and immediately cries out in pain. This is it. This is the end. He survived the war and the killing curse twice but now his head is going to explode and kill him once and for all. The screech sounds again and Harry decides his last act on this earth will be to put an end to it.

He pushes himself up on his hands and knees, head still hanging down from the pain, and crawls across the floor until he reaches a silver owl cage. Inside is a small barn owl with a heart-shaped white face. “Who are you?” Harry asks it.

The owl responds by pecking its beak to a card tied on the side of the cage. Harry struggles with the ribbon but eventually gets it untied. He drops to the floor to read it.

> HAPPY BIRTHDAY, HARRY!
> 
> We know how you feel about owls, but if you’re going to be opening a shop then you’re going to need an owl for your correspondence. She doesn’t have a name yet, but she is whip smart and in need of an owner who doesn’t mind the way she looks. We know you’ll love her if you just give her the chance that no one else was willing to.
> 
> Love, Hermione (& Viktor) and Draco

Harry looks back at the owl, wondering what’s wrong with her. He doesn’t have his glasses on so he leans in close and squints. He hadn’t noticed at first glance, but the entire left side of the bird’s face looks strange. He opens the cage and offers his hand palm side up. She hopes from her perch and onto his hand and Harry smooths her feathers gently. She settles down and he brings her closer to get a better look. She’s missing an eye and there are slashes ripped through the fine feathers on her face. Scars.

He wants to be mad at Hermione and Draco. Why would they get him a damaged owl? Just to remind him that he’s broken and belongs with other things that are just like him? But then he owl settles even further into his hand, nuzzling his thumb and making a noise not unlike a cat purring. And just like that, he can’t be mad. This owl needs him.

“Hullo there, little one.” He rubs his thumb softly against her face. “I bet everyone passed you by just because you were small and looked different. Well, you don’t have to worry about that anymore because you’re with me now. I’m glad my friends found you.” The owl gives a soft hoot. “I suppose you need a name. What do you think about Minerva? Or, Minnie for short.”

Minnie gives a loud screech of delight and Harry almost drops her as the sound pierces his ears, reminding him that he still has a massive headache to take care of. But he can’t help but laugh at the way the little owl puffs out her chest and struts about on his hand. “Minnie it is, then.”

“That’s really sweet,” Hermione says from the doorway to the kitchen.

Harry jumps, setting Minnie on the floor before he really does drop her. “Morning, Hermione. We wouldn’t happen to have any vials of hangover-cure left around, would we?”

She brings over a dark purple vial and a bottle of water. “You’re lucky there was still two in the bathroom cupboard.”

“I only need the one.” He uncorks it and downs the potion all in one go, chasing away the awful flavor with the water.

“You might only need one, but I figured Draco would need one as well.”

Harry tilts his head in confusion. “Are you going to take it to him or something?”

“Yes…” she answers slowly. “Is there a problem with that?”

“No, but I guess I just figured he’d already have some at the Manor.”

Hermione tilts her own head in confusion this time and the two stare at each other for a solid minute until it dawns on her what’s going on in Harry’s mind. “He’s still here, Harry.” When Harry looks around the room she laughs. “You insisted he stay in your room when I told him not to use the floo while drunk.”

“Oh. Okay. I’ll take it to him then.”

She helps him off the floor and gives him the other vial and another bottle of water. “Go get him, tiger.”

“It’s not like that!” he shouts over his shoulder, but Hermione is already ignoring him in favor of playing with the small owl that is still hopping around on the floor.

Harry holds his breath as he knocks on his bedroom door. Inside, Draco burrows deeper into the blankets. “I’m having a lie-in, Mother.”

The door gaps open and Harry pops his head in. “You’ll regret the lie-in when your head is still pounding. And I’m not your mother.”

Draco jerks awake and sits up, but it’s too fast and he slaps a hand to his forehead with a groan. “What did you do to me, Potter?”

He laughs at the use of his last name. “Using the ‘Potter’ again, are we? And I’m afraid you did this one to yourself. The good news is, I come bearing gifts of hangover-cure and water.”

“Oh, thank Merlin.” Draco makes grabby hands like a toddler and Harry laughs some more as he walks fully into the room to hand them over. Draco cringes at the taste and gratefully guzzles the water afterward. “Thanks for that. And for letting me stay over.”

“Thanks for coming with me last night.” Harry tries to hide his smile by walking over to his wardrobe to get out some clean clothes. “And for the owl.”

Draco throws the covers off of his legs and hesitantly says, “Do you like her?”

Harry turns around slowly to face him. “I do. I was mad at first, but I get it. I named her after McGonagall.”

“Oh gods, of course you did!” Draco gathers his clothes, recalling a vague memory of Hermione praising his ability to dress himself. “Is everything alright between you and ‘Monie?”

“‘Monie?”

He doubles over laughing. “That’s what you kept calling her last night! Don’t you remember?”

Harry flushes in embarrassment. “This is why I don’t drink.”

Just then, the most wonderful smell wafts into the room. “What is that?” Draco asks.

“Hermione makes a wicked fry up. You sticking around?”

“Am I invited?”

“Of course, Draco.”

“Then yes. I would love to partake in the ‘wicked fry up’ and meet your owl named after our old professor.”

“I’m calling her Minnie,” Harry explains as they walk to the kitchen together, “So it’s not so bad.”

“If you say so.”

They nudge each other playfully on the way to the table and Hermione cheerfully serves them breakfast, thinking the only thing that could make this better would be if Viktor was here as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I probably won't have a chance to update again until January. Happy New Year, everyone!!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY NEW YEAR! Hopefully 2018 is a good one for you :)

“So, you see,” Harry explains, “I need more.”

Healer Mason sighs heavily. “Harry, you know how I feel about this. I won’t allow you to receive more than one vial of Dreamless Sleep per week, and I would rather you not take it at all. Learning to cope using the different methods we’ve practiced is the safest, healthiest way to live.”

“Please,” he begs, not able to make eye contact with her for fear that she’ll find out the depth of his secret. He’s been paying off the owner of the apothecary to brew him more than his prescription is written for. It’s amazing to him what a few extra galleons can get someone to do, but he’d rather not push it. “It’s just been tough since Oliver broke up with me. My friends are helping but at night…”

She sighs again. “No. I’m sorry, but I refuse to assist your journey towards addiction.”

“A-addiction?”

“You can’t be surprised it’s come to this, Harry. Quite frankly, I should never have let it go this far but it’s obvious to me now that you haven’t exactly been truthful about your using. How long has it been since the last time you took it?”

Harry counts back in his head but he doesn’t have to go far. “Umm…last night.”

“And how long ago before that?”

“The night before that I didn’t.”

“Did you sleep?”

“No!” He barely resists the urge to slam his fist onto her desk. “Why do you think I take it??”

Healer Mason slides a pamphlet towards him and then leans back in her chair. “You need more than just my help. I think you should enroll in the rehabilitation clinic at St. Mungo’s.”

“You can’t be serious!” Harry doesn’t even pick up the pamphlet. “You don’t know how bad the press is on a normal day. They wrote scathing articles for weeks after Draco and I went out for drinks! Can you imagine what they’re going to do when they find out I’m going to rehab??”

“I read the Prophet just like everyone else and believe me when I say I could not care less what they print about you. I care about your mental health as well as your physical health, and your addiction to Dreamless Sleep is hindering both of those.”

He does slams his fists down on her desk this time, and he shoots to his feet. “I DON’T HAVE AN ADDICTION!”

The silence reverberates loudly throughout the small office. Harry has never felt so embarrassed, not even when Cho Chang ran out on him in the middle of their spectacularly awful date at Madam Puddifoot’s. Healer Mason, thankfully, does not react to his outburst. Her mouth thins to a stern line not unlike McGonagall’s and she waits for him to calm down. Harry pinches the bridge of his nose and starts to pace the room. He practices his deep breathing and calming techniques until he feels like he can continue their conversation. Then he sits back down and stares at his shoes while he waits for his reprimanding.

“I’m impressed, Harry,” Healer Mason finally says.

His eyebrows knit together in confusion. He looks up at her and finds a whisper of a smile gracing her features. “I don’t understand.”

“You were mad, and rightfully so. I just accused you of substance abuse and suggested you seek further professional help- help that could become visible to the public. You expressed your anger through your volume, both verbally and physically. But then you used the skills you’ve learned to control those extreme reactions to your emotions and returned to a civil state once more. So, yes. I’m impressed.”

“Cheers?” Harry mutters. “And I’m sorry,” he says with more certainty.

Healer Mason taps the pamphlet with her quill. “Will you please consider the program? They are all trained healers and therefore must keep your participation confidential.”

He reaches for the folded brochure now. The cover is emblazoned with pictures that seem too posed to be real. There is a healer in her lime green robes laying a comforting hand onto the shoulder of young witch, a middle-aged wizard hugging what could be his children, and a group gathered around in a circle discussing something (probably their deep, dark secrets that lead them to abuse potions in the first place). This doesn’t seem like something that he would enjoy, but deep down Harry knows he needs help from _somewhere_. Maybe this could be the place.

“I know from experience how scary this can be.”

It’s only partially the words that has Harry snapping his head up in shock. It’s also the tone in which she is speaking. He has never heard Healer Mason talk in any way other than soothing or apologetic. Now she sounds meek and small.

“You went through rehab?” Harry asks in wonder.

“I did. I’d rather not go through the details, as you are not my healers, but I have been clean for nearly fifteen years. My personal journey was what made me want to go into my field of study.”

“I never would have guessed.”

“Of course not.” She sits up taller, smoothing out the front of her robes. “That’s the point. You have to seek the help you need to change and move on. You’ve made great strides in your life. I’d hate to see you lose everyone you’ve worked so hard for just because you had an opportunity and let it pass you by.”

He flips the pamphlet over in his hands. He’s still worried that someone will find out and it will get reported in every major publication forever, but he could always sneak into St. Mungo’s wearing his Invisibility Cloak and then _obliviate_ anyone he worked with (though he doesn’t think it will come to the latter). “I want to be a better friend and roommate to Hermione. I want to be a better godfather to Teddy. I want to be a better person to everyone I care about.”

“And what about yourself? Do you want to be better for you?”

“I…I just know that I want to be better.”

A full smile spears on Healer Mason’s face this time. “That’s as good a start as any. I will contact the clinic and let them know you will be enrolling. They’ll give you time to put your affairs in order- things like making sure your owl will be taken care of or that your friends don’t worry that you’ve suddenly gone- and then you’ll be at St. Mungo’s in their ward for a minimum of 30 days. After the 30 days, your healer team will reevaluate and determine if your stay needs to be extended. Any questions for me right now?”

He shakes his head. It’s all so overwhelming. Harry can’t imagine facing anyone until he has time to process everything that’s happened. “Can I apparate directly out of here?”

“There are anti-apparition wards on the building. Though I’m sure your magic is strong enough to bypass them, I still wouldn’t recommend it as splinching is a concern. Would you like me to clear the waiting room before you go?”

“No, that’s alright. I don’t want to be a bother.” He stands and makes for the door. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Harry. Just doing my job.”

Harry walks out of her office and immediately sees the one person he was hoping to avoid. Draco looks up and it’s as if he _knows_ that something is wrong with him. He’s making that concerned face and Harry just can’t deal with it right now. He breezes past as if no one is there and is already halfway down the flight of stairs before he realizes that Draco is calling after him. Oh well. He keeps right on walking, and as soon as he’s clear of the building’s wards he is gone with a pop.

* * *

Hermione knows that something is going on with Harry, but she waits and lets him come to her himself. Harry makes it all of a day and a half until he breaks down. He stalks into Hermione’s bedroom where she is currently pouring through casefiles at her desk. She looks at him expectantly but all he can do is throw the pamphlet at her. She takes the information into her hands and starts to read. Harry sits on the floor next to her and waits for her to finish.

When she’s done reading every single word, Hermione slides off her chair to the floor. “Tell me how you’re feeling.”

His arms are wrapped around his knees and all he does it shrug.

“Harry, you’re allowed to be angry. Or scared. Or…anything, really.”

“I feel weak. I thought I was doing alright, but I guess I can’t handle being an adult.”

“Oh, Harry.” Hermione slings an arm around him and sets her head on his shoulder. “You’re not weak. Sometimes waking up each day is the strongest act we can do. You’ve fought worse than this before, so I have no doubt you’ll make it through. I only wish I had known. Maybe I could have done more to-”

“No! Don’t go down that rabbit hole. If I had it my way, you never would have found out. It’s not that I don’t trust you, I just don’t want to drag you down with me. I’ve always held you back. Imagine what you could have done at Hogwarts without me.”

“I was miserable at the beginning of our first year! Do you remember what first brought us together?”

How could he forget? What other eleven-year-old can say he fought off a monster with his two best friends? And they hadn’t even gotten punished for it! “The troll that Quirrell brought in.”

“Exactly! And that was at Hallowe’en. Before that, I didn’t have any friends. I chose to run off and hide in the toilets that night. I chose to run off and hide in the forest with you and Ron in our seventh year. I chose to get this flat with you four years ago. You have never once ‘dragged me down’. I will always be thankful for your friendship.”

It says something about the emotional state of the room that Crookshanks joins them, curling up at their feet trying to provide her own comfort the only way she knows how. Harry reaches a hand down to pet her- something she rarely tolerates, but lets him do this time- and that reminds him about his owl.

“Can you take care of Minnie while I’m gone?” Harry asks. “I hate to leave her so soon after getting her but I’m not allowed to bring her along.”

“Viktor and I can watch after her,” Hermione assures him.

“Viktor?”

“You know…big guy, dark hair, used to play for the Bulgarian National Quidditch Team until he retired, my boyfriend… _that_ Viktor.”

He deserves that. “I know who he is, thank you very much. But I didn’t realize he was staying over.”

Hermione worries her lip and pats her lap for Crookshanks to jump up. She busies herself with petting her so as to avoid looking at Harry. “I told you a week ago. It was an early morning, though, so perhaps you hadn’t slept the night before? You said it was alright at the time. Viktor’s just sort of lost right now. Quidditch was his life but now he’s considering moving to London with me permanently, so we’re going to use the next month or so to see how things go. Is this still alright?”

Harry wishes he could remember that conversation. It sounds like something he’d agree to no problem- he’d do anything for Hermione- but he just can’t recall. Perhaps Healer Mason has more than a leg to stand on with this whole addiction business. “Of course. I won’t even be here. It will be perfect for the two of you. And then when I get back we can see about what happens next.”

“I would never kick you out or leave you all alone!” Hermione is quick to tell him.

“I know. I trust you.” Harry pushes himself off the floor. “I guess I’ll go pack a bag. They’re expecting me first thing tomorrow morning.”

“Do you want me to tell Draco?”

He freezes. He has at least a dozen aborted letters to Draco currently balled up on the floor of his bedroom. He’ll have to vanish them before he leaves, lest Hermione find them and read them- or worse, show them to Draco herself. “If you see him you have my permission to fill him in on where I am so long as he promises to keep it to himself, but don’t go making a special meeting just to tell him about me.”

Hermione nods her understanding.

* * *

Wednesday morning begins just as any morning would. Harry curses the sun for shining as though it has something to celebrate, something to be happy about. Last night was _not_ good and he got zero sleep. He casts a few impervious charms on his bedroom to keep it from getting dusty in his absence, then he shuts and locks the door behind him. He pads out to the front room where his bag is already waiting for him. Minnie sits on her perch by the window. She hoots softly when she sees him walk in and flies over to him. She lands on his shoulder and nuzzles into the side of his head, nipping at his ear for good measure. Harry chuckles and runs a finger over her soft feathers. “I’ll miss you, girl. Be good for Hermione.”

“I’ll make sure Crookshanks plays nice,” Hermione says as she enters from the kitchen. “Although, Minnie can handle herself just fine, isn’t that right?”

The little owl puffs out her chest and Hermione laughs as she gently removes her from his shoulder, setting her back on her perch. “Do you want me to go with you?” she asks Harry.

“I’m not a little kid going off to school. I think I can floo into St. Mungo’s just fine on my own.”

“Alright.”

Her downcast eyes mean that his words came out harsher than he intended them to be. “I’m sorry, ‘Mione. I’m just nervous. I didn’t mean it.”

She has her arms thrown over his shoulders in an instant. It brings Harry back to the final moment with his friends before he left to meet Voldemort in the Forbidden Forest. Even then, Hermione was hesitant to leave his side. But it’s different this time. He’s not going to die. He’s going to get better. Harry hugs her back, trying to put everything unsaid into their embrace.

She finally pulls away, wiping at her eyes and shoving him toward the floo. “Go on.”

Just as the flames flash green around him, he thinks he hears a knock at the door. But then he’s twisting away and it’s too late. ‘ _Oh well_ , he thinks to himself as he tumbles out into the reception area, _‘It’s probably just be Viktor.’_ He slinks around the corner and puts his Invisibility Cloak around him. Then he walks towards the clinic, unseen by those passing by him.

Back at the flat, Hermione opens the door to find Draco huffing and puffing on the other side. “I got here as fast as I could,” he says, one hand on the door frame to hold himself upright. “I should really do more cardio. Take up jogging, perhaps.” Then he sees Hermione’s tear-stained cheeks. “Oh no, am I already too late?”

She nods, sniffing to hold back another flood of tears. Draco walks in and shuts the door, pulling her into his arms. She’s significantly shorter than him so her head rests against his bony chest, but at the moment she doesn’t mind.

“Hermione, I’m so sorry you had to do this alone.”

“You’re here now. Will you stay until Viktor arrives?”

“You don’t even have to ask. What would you like to do? I can turn on the wireless or we can just sit and read.”

“I think I have a better idea.” She gestures for him to sit on the couch and then she crosses the room to open up a wooden armoire. Draco isn’t sure what he was expecting inside, but he’s surprised at the metal and glass rectangle hidden within. “We’re going to watch some films.”

“If you insist.”

“Really?”

“If this is what you need, then I certainly won’t complain.”

“Not even if they’re incredibly girly films and I drink too much wine and cry?”

“Isn’t that half the fun?”

Hermione laughs for the first time and Draco considers that a success. “I’ll go start the popcorn. Can you get out the extra blankets and pillows?”

With their snacks and drinks ready, they settle on the sofa and start the first film. Crookshanks settles on Hermione’s left and Minnie rests on Draco’s right shoulder. Together they cheer and jeer the characters as they live their ridiculous lives and sort through their ridiculous problems. Hermione has seen this one before but Draco is completely enthralled. Neither he nor Hermione talk about Harry, but both are thinking about him the entire time. As the credits roll she picks out another one and they repeat the process. It’s not perfect, but for now it’s enough.

Viktor gets there later in the afternoon and joins them on the couch. Draco offers to go but they ask him to stay as long as he wants. He stays through the end of the current film, and then leaves to join his mother for dinner. Hermione gives him a grateful hug in front of the floo. “Thank you for coming and staying with me.”

“Any time,” Draco says sincerely. “And if you need anything over the next month, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“I just hope he’s okay.”

“He will be.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“It’s Harry. If there’s one thing I can count on in this world, it’s that Harry will always make it through.”

Hermione holds on to his words long after he’s gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Harry. Also, and this should go without saying, but I am not a doctor and therefore nothing medical in my story should be applied to real life (rehab included).


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This exists because I'm a sap. But also Harry needs this.

Thirty days later, Harry meets with his healer team at the rehabilitation clinic. They commend his progress and give him clearance to leave the clinic if he should so wish, but Harry has other ideas. He requests to stay an additional thirty days with the condition that he’s allowed to have visitors. They actually encourage it, saying that most patients who stay past the required days are encouraged to do the same. So, with help from his healers, Harry sits down with a stack of parchment and writes out his invitations.

> “Your presence is formally requested by Harry J. Potter at the date and time listed below. Please arrive promptly via the given floo address. Someone will be present to assist you. Light refreshments will be provided. Thank you in advance for your cooperation.”

The first thing Hermione does when she gets her letter is let Viktor know she’ll be back soon and floos over to the Manor. She calls first and Draco lets her through immediately. As much time as she and Draco have spent together since their fateful Quidditch match in Paris, she’s never been to the Manor. It should probably bother her that she’s about to step into the place that was essentially Voldemort’s headquarters for the better part of the year, where she and her friends were held captive, where Bellatrix carved the word ‘Moodblood’ into her arm. But right now her mind is on Harry and she knows that Draco is equally as worried about him.

“Did you hear from him?” he inquires excitedly.

“Sort of. I got this vague invitation.” She passes it over. “He must have had help writing it and sending it out. And I’m going to assume the floo address will take me somewhere in the hospital, but I’ll just have to wait and see when I get there tomorrow.”

Draco looks over the missive before handing it back. “This…sounds promising. If it were something negative I’m sure they would be contacting you in a different manner than this.”

Just then, a single knock sounds on the sitting room door before it opens revealing Narcissa. “Draco, there’s a letter here for you. Oh! I wasn’t aware you had company. Welcome to our home, Miss Granger.”

Draco nudges Hermione forward and that snaps her out of her surprise. She jogs forward to offer her hand to Narcissa. “Thank you, Missus Malfoy. I’m sorry for coming over unannounced but I finally heard from Harry and I wanted to let Draco know.”

“There’s no need to apologize; you are always welcome here.”

Then she gives Draco the sealed parchment. He tears into it and announces that it is, indeed, the same invitation that Hermione got. The only difference is he’s not scheduled to meet with Harry for a few weeks later.

“I’ll tell you what happens,” Hermione promises him.

Draco considers it. The past month has been a complete blur of work and worrying about Harry. He’s dusted off the old laboratory in their cellar and started brewing potions in his spare time to keep his mind occupied. But whatever is going on with him, he has to let it happen in its own time. If Harry wants to see him in three weeks, then he can wait that long. “That’s alright. Thank you for the offer, though.”

She gives him a hug and says good-bye to Narcissa, leaving through the floo.

The next day she dresses in comfortable muggle clothes, knowing it will put Harry at ease to see her looking as relaxed as possible. Viktor compliments the soft pink of her sweater with a kiss to the cheek as he walks her to the floo. She imagines leaving for work each day just like this and her breath catches in her chest. He looks at Hermione as if he knows exactly what she’s thinking. “Ve vill talk after,” he tells her with a soft look on his face.

Hermione calls out the floo address she was given and steps out into a small waiting room. A bored teenager, probably a volunteer, is leaning against the wall opposite the floo. He barely looks up from his fingernails when he hears Hermione arrive. “You here for Potter? Follow me.”

She follows him through several winding corridors and can’t stop herself from asking, “You’re not going to tell anyone about where he is, are you?”

The teen rolls his eyes so hard his whole body moves. “They told me you’d ask something like that. We’re all under a binding contract that prevents us from saying anything to anyone not specifically on the list approved by the patient.”

“Oh.” She should probably be embarrassed but mainly she’s just relieved. “That’s good. Thank you.”

“Whatever.”

They get to a set of heavily warded doors and he places his hand on them. They shimmer and vibrate before opening up to a cozy, sun-lit room. He does little more than wave Hermione in and then he’s gone again. She shrugs, figuring she can figure out where to go on her own (and perhaps easier without the disaffected teenager).

She takes a turn through the room, very much liking what she sees. The walls are painted a calming sky blue color and the ceilings are enchanted to look like clouds drifting lazily in the wind. In every corner there are overstuffed sofas and armchairs in a variety of colors. A ring of metal folding chairs are set up to one side and Hermione remembers seeing a picture on the brochure of a group meeting being held in that arrangement.

“‘Mione! You came!”

Harry has a grin going from ear to ear and it near breaks Hermione’s heart that he thought she’d ignore his invitation. “Of course I’m here,” she says into his shoulder as she hugs him close. “I’ll always be there when you need me.”

He pulls away with the same smile still etched on his face. He doesn’t remember feeling this good in a long time and now that he is he doesn’t want it to stop. He takes Hermione’s hand and takes her over to a small meeting room. There is a square wooden table with a chair at each side and tea and biscuits on a tray in the center. Harry pulls out a chair for her and sits to her left. “Tea?” he asks.

“Yes, please. With milk.”

“I left it out one time and you’ve never let me forget it!” he groans but it’s obvious that it’s all in jest. He pours and prepares the tea and slides it over to Hermione. Then he takes a few of the chocolate digestives for himself, knowing she likes the plain ones better.

She sips her tea and hums her approval. Then she looks at Harry over the lip of her cup. “How are you doing?”

“Good! Real good. I mean, it’s been hard, especially at the beginning, but the good kind of hard, you know? Nobody has ever pushed me this much before- not even Remus or Moody, well, fake Moody.”

“That’s fantastic, Harry. I’ve always known you were capable of so much more, but I was afraid if I pushed you too hard that you’d get sick of me. But I’m proud of the gains you’ve made.”

He ducks his head, cheeks pinking at the feeling of being praised. Sure, his healer team has given him positive feedback but it’s different coming from his best friend. “Thanks.” Then he slowly raises his eyes to her brown ones. “I’m supposed to tell people when I appreciate something they do, so I appreciate that you always tell it like it is. You don’t mince your words or baby me, and I’m grateful for that.”

He asks about how work has been and Hermione shares what she can about the current cases she’s working on. Harry listens intently and shows genuine interest (which isn’t too hard because this is something that she’s passionate about and it’s evident in the way she talks).

When she comes to a natural stopping point Harry asks, “Have you decided on what you’ll specialize in?”

Hermione sets down her cup and folds her hands in her lap. “I’m glad you asked. I think I’m going to cut ties with the firm in London and work exclusively with wizarding law for now.”

“Oh, wow. But you liked that firm a lot. Are you sure you want to let all your hard work go?”

“I think it will be worth it, all things considered.”

“What aren’t you telling me?” Harry asks cryptically.

She takes in a deep breath. “I’m going to be fighting for Magical Creature Rights. I think I’ve found a few others willing to put everything into starting our own legal team.” She wonders if she should stop there but decides to tell him, “Draco is one of them.”

His jaw opens in shock. “When did you do all this?”

“Well, I’ve been working behind the scenes for a while. I knew it would take time to gather the right people and make this a possibility. This is one time where my name works against me, as I’m trying to keep it under wraps until we make everything official. I just didn’t want to see more anti-werewolf legislation being passed- or _any_ laws that serve no purpose than to diminish the lives of anyone not entirely human.”

“Hermione,” Harry lets out on an awed whisper. “You’re bloody amazing. Can you imagine if Remus would have had you around fifteen years ago? Things could have been entirely different for him. You’re going to help so many people!”

“I’m no hero, Harry. You know more than anyone that I’m just a person doing my job, trying to make things a little better.”

“Well, I still think it’s brilliant, regardless of what you say.” He fiddles with the tea kettle, pouring himself a cup to have something to do with his hands. “And you said that Draco already agreed to be part of your team?” he asks without looking at her.

“He did, but maybe you should let him tell you the rest. He told me you scheduled him for a few weeks away.”

“Yeah,” Harry rubs at the back of his neck before running a hand through his already ruffled hair. “He’s my last visitor before I leave.”

“So they’ve given you an end date?”

“They actually said I could leave after the first thirty days,” he admits, “but I wanted to stay longer and take care of my interpersonal relationships. Turns out they’re a big part of why I can’t sleep at night. I need to get those relationships on the path to healing before I feel comfortable leaving and going out on my own again.”

Hermione scooches closer so she can reach out and take Harry’s hands in her own. “That’s braver than anything I’m doing with my job, and I am endlessly proud of you.”

He rubs the edge of her sleeve between his fingers, relishing the soft pink knit. “I can never thank you enough for sticking with me through everything. But I think it’s time that I move into my own place. I-it’s going to be rough at first, yet I believe it will be for the best in the long run.”

“Where will you go?” she asks, concerned.

“Grimmauld Place. It’s been sitting empty ever since we left it to go to break into the Ministry. Even Kreacher has abandoned it, working at Hogwarts instead of rotting away within the walls of the old Black family home.”

“But Harry…it needs so much work!”

“Exactly. I’ve always liked working with my hands and I plan on taking more classes at the rec center where Dean taught that figure-drawing class. It can be a project for me to work on until George is ready to open his shop.”

This is what she wanted. Right? For Harry to get better? But she didn’t think things would happen so fast! She originally agreed to move in with Harry because he had no one else to go to- nowhere else to turn. Viktor had wanted her to move to Bulgaria, but she refused on account of Harry. Viktor understood and didn’t press the issue. Hermione and Harry found a flat they could imbue with magic and not overload the electrical systems, and the rest is history. Now Harry wants to move out on his own? Sure, it would give her more time with her boyfriend so that they could plan their future, but it would also mean her best friend would no longer be there.

She must be quiet for far too long because Harry starts to shift uncomfortably. He removes his hands from her now-clammy ones. “I only want to be a better friend to you. I can stay if that’s what you want, I just thought that unburdening you from having a flatmate would-”

“Stop right there,” Hermione demands of him. “You are not and have never been a burden on me. If this is what you want to do then I will support you one hundred percent. You’re right; Vik and I have a lot to talk about in regards to our future together because this past month has been an eye-opener for sure. But you are welcome to live with us for as long or as little as you like.”

“Thanks, ‘Mione,” Harry says for what feels like the tenth time today.

A tall brunette man in lime green robes strides into the meeting room. “It’s time for our afternoon session, Harry. Would you like to see your guest out?”

Harry nods as he stands. “I’ll be right there, Healer Brown.”

Hermione stands as well and they walk back to the main doors of clinic in silence. Once there, she wraps him in yet another hug. “I’m going to miss you. Thirty days was a lot longer than it sounded like, and now I have to wait thirty more.”

“I know.” He squeezes harder, trying to put everything still unsaid into the embrace. “But I need this. I need to get better.”

She holds his face in her hands, thumbing across his high cheekbones. “You already are.” She plants a soft kiss to the middle of his forehead. “Keep up the good work, and let me know if you need anything.”

Harry waves as she opens the enchanted door.

“Harry! The rest of the group is ready!”

He chuckles at Healer Brown’s ever-impatient tone. “Ah, but a wise man once told me that a wizard is never late, nor is he early, he arrives precisely when he means to.”

“That’s from Lord of the Rings!” one of the other patients calls out.

“Damn! I forgot you were muggle-born!”

The whole group laughs and Healer Brown has to clear his throat several times before they settle and can begin. The smile doesn’t leave Harry’s face for the rest of the evening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continued in the next chapter.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I usually post on Sunday mornings/afternoons (it just fits around my schedule) but I have lofty cleaning goals for tomorrow so I'm posting early! So as you read this chapter, think of me sweeping and hoovering and scrubbing away :'-(

And so the rest of the second month continues in much the same was as the first did for Harry. The only difference is that every few days or so he has visitors. First it’s Dean and Seamus.

The doors to the clinic open and Harry can barely contain his energy. He’s excited to see his friends again. He knows he should have done a better job keeping up with them over the years, but this is his chance to start making up for it. Dean’s thin, brown face peeks around the doorframe and he lights up when he sees Harry. He ducks back out for a moment but Harry can hear him say, “It’s really him, Fin,” before walking into the room.

An equally smiley Seamus follows him in. “Harry! It’s good ta see ya!” he hollers before pulling Harry into a back-smacking hug.

Dean gives Harry a much less aggressive hug, for which Harry is thankful. He once again leads his guests into the empty waiting room he’s reserved and offers sodas and packets of crisps (remembering their fondness for the snacks). Then he clears his throat and begins the short speech he’s prepared.

“You’re probably wondering why I asked you here.”

“Yeah, where are we exactly?” Dean asks with a look around the room for emphasis.

Harry rubs his damp palms onto the legs of his jeans. He can trust his friends, but these are the first people he’s had to tell outright about his stay in rehabilitation. “I thought when the war was over, things would be perfect. I imagined us all living the lives we always wanted now that we were free to do so. Speaking of which, I’m glad you two finally got together.”

Dean sets his hand on Seamus’ thigh and gives it a playful squeeze. “Me too.”

Seamus gives him a toothy grin in return, bits of crisp stuck to his lip.

Harry wishes he had this with somebody, but he pushes the thought aside for now. Today isn’t about that. “So, I don’t know how things have been for you two but I didn’t have an easy time adjusting. That ‘perfect life’ I was imagining didn’t exist. I hated being an auror, Ron and I were always fighting, and I couldn’t escape the nightmares. The only escape from reality was Dreamless Sleep.” His voice catches on those last two words but he pushes through. “I tried to ignore my Mind Healer. I thought I was dealing with it. But I’m so thankful that she saw through my shit and told me I needed more help. This is a rehabilitation clinic that specializes in potion and drug abuse. I’ve been here for over a month and now I’m making amends with my friends and family as part of the process.”

For the first time in a long time, Seamus looks completely serious. At some point during the explanation, he took Dean’s hand and now he’s gripping it tightly as he looks at Harry in shock. “I had no idea.”

“That’s how I wanted it. But I’m not going to live that way anymore. I want you both back in my life, if you’re willing to forgive me being a rubbish friend.”

“Of course,” they assure him at the same time.

Dean goes on to ask, “Do you already have something in mind?”

Harry’s lips stretch into a wide smile. “I’m glad you asked. My idea is to open a shop. I offered to take over the retail part of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes if George would like to start inventing joke products again, and I thought I could expand on that to show off all the hard work my friends do. How would you like a place to sell your artwork?”

“I wouldn’t be opposed to more wizarding exposure. I have a piece in a gallery in London, but it’s real small and I don’t think they get a lot of business. I’ve also been trying some new techniques that combine magic with traditional mediums. Think like a magical photograph? But also a painting in oils or pastels.”

Harry is supremely impressed. “That sounds amazing! And Seamus, I know you’re working as a builder. Is there any way I could promote your work in my shop?”

“Fer one, you could hire out tha company ta build yer shop. That’d go a long way fer me, landing a job fer tha great Harry Potter.” Seamus nudges Harry playfully with his elbow, making them all laugh. It’s good to know that at least some things never change.

* * *

Andi and Narcissa are hesitant at first to bring Teddy with them, but the little boy misses his godfather so much they just can’t bear to leave him behind. Harry opens his arms and drops to his knees as soon as he sees they’ve brought him along. Teddy runs to him and them holds on for dear life. He doesn’t let go the whole time they’re at the clinic.

Harry asks Andi if he can start having Teddy for some overnight and weekend visits, once he gets Grimmauld Place done over. She agrees and even offers to come over and help him with the renovations. Narcissa offers her help as well. Both women want to see the Black home not only put to good use again, but also to see it cleaned out of all the negative and dark energy.

But then Narcissa has a concerned look on her face and asks, “Won’t you be lonely in that house all by yourself, Harry?”

“You’re one to talk,” Andi says with a snort.

“And what exactly do you propose I do?”

“Cissy, you need to get out of that Manor. The place is dreadful and you know it. And you’re not even a Malfoy! Not _really_. I say, keep what you want and sell everything else. Donate it, even!”

“Where would we go?” she asks in a small voice.

“Move in with us. Teddy is growing so fast, and he loves spending time with his cousin.”

After a moment Narcissa says, “I’ll have to speak with Draco.”

“Of course.”

Harry coughs to get their attention. “Not to interrupt, but I also have a suggestion. Draco could move in to Grimmauld Place. If he wanted, that is! I wouldn’t force him to if he’s uncomfortable with that. I just figure… it’s close to St. Mungo’s, he’s more a Black than I am, and that way I wouldn’t have to ‘be lonely that house all by myself’ like you said.”

“Have you asked him about it?” Narcissa questions with a raised eyebrow.

“No, but he’ll be coming here soon. I was going to ask him then.”

She and Andi share a look that Harry can’t decipher, and then she nods. “I look forward to hearing from Draco regarding his decision.”

It’s not much to go on, but she didn’t immediately disapprove so Harry holds on to that thought well into the night.

* * *

Lee Jordan comes alone. Harry knew it would be a long shot to get George there, but he wanted to try regardless. At least he comes bearing good news. He listens to Harry’s prepared speech and then tells him that George has started experimenting again.

“I heard some clanking around in the middle of the night, which is unusual because even when he wanders around the Burrow he usually does it quietly. I went down to investigate and I found him at the hob boiling up a batch of toffee. He told me he had already recreated the ‘Ton-Tongue Toffees’ and was working on another type that he called ‘ _Tied_ -Tongue Toffees’. I don’t know if George will ever get to the point where he’s back to the way he was, but are any of us really the same as we were before? I just want him to be happy and this is a great start.”

Harry beams at him from across the table. “I’m so glad. And I don’t want him to feel pressure from me to reopen the joke shop. If he never wants to sell his products again then I promise not to bring it up again. Just let him know that the offer is always open, alright?”

“Of course. And in the meantime, perhaps you can come over more often? It’s not just me and George that enjoyed having you.”

“I’m seeing them all over the next few days,” Harry says, knowing exactly what Lee is hinting at.

“Good. Now let’s chat about a business idea _I’ve_ had recently.” Lee leans in close and says very seriously, “What do you think Viktor Krum would say to starting a youth Quidditch league?”

Harry lets out a loud laugh. “You’d have to ask him yourself, but that sounds like a good idea. He’s staying at our flat with Hermione, so just send an owl over. He’s very reasonable and I think he’d be willing to at least listen to you.”

Lee shakes Harry’s hand vigorously between both of his own. “Brilliant! Thanks, Harry!”

* * *

Harry expects Molly to burst into the clinic like she owns the place and he’s not disappointed, as she nearly kicks down the door and immediately pulls Harry to her chest. He revels in the familiarity of her softness juxtaposed by the worn stiffness of her dress and ever-present floral apron. Even the smell of her perfume is the same as it always was. She holds onto him for so long but it doesn’t bother Harry. Molly is the only mother he’s ever known. He used to feel bad for not remembering his own mum save for the pictures in his photo albums, but he’s come to learn that there’s room in his heart for as many people that he chooses to let in.

She eventually does let him go and Arthur has tears in his eyes when he faces Harry. He gives a watery smile and nods his head. Harry finds it an odd greeting, but he figures perhaps Arthur is simply trying to not overwhelm him. It isn’t until after Harry’s explanation of everything that’s happened that Arthur finally speaks what’s weighing on his mind. “I’m sorry I’ve let you down, son.”

“What?” Harry is stunned. Of all the reactions, this certainly wasn’t what he thought would happen. “How can you possibly think you’ve let me down?”

Molly holds onto his arm, rubbing her hand from shoulder to elbow and back again in a soothing gesture. Arthur gives her a grateful smile before turning back to Harry. “Before the final battle, Remus made me promise to look after you, just as Sirius had made him promise before. It was as though he knew he wasn’t going to make it. Regardless, I told him straightaway that you’ve been part of our family since that first day you befriended Ron on the Hogwarts Express.”

“And I’ve always appreciated it.” Harry doesn’t understand the issue here. “Your home and your family means more to me than anything. _I’m_ the one who should be apologizing for hurting you by pushing you away for so long.”

“No, no, Harry,” Molly insists. “I was being overbearing. I was just so afraid of losing you, too.”

The ‘too’ is what breaks Arthur. He chokes out a sob, clapping a hand over his mouth in a delayed attempt to hide it. Harry feels for him. He’s never seen Arthur as anything other than strong- even when Nagini attacked him in the Hall of Prophecies- but the loss of his son has understandably been hard on him. Harry pours him a glass of water for lack of knowing what else to do. Arthur sips at it and takes the time he needs before saying, “I was so focused on George and making sure he was alright, I forgot about everyone else. If I had done the job I swore to Remus I would, you wouldn’t be here right now. We would all still be a family.”

Everyone in Harry’s life seems to think they could have singlehandedly stopped the bad things from happening in his life, even though that’s impossible to say, and it really makes it clear just how much these people care about him. “Arthur, you are an amazing dad. Ron and Gin and everyone have always been so proud of you. You never once made me feel like I was anything less than the others, regardless of my last name or my hair color. Do you remember what the first thing you asked me was?” Arthur shakes his head no. “You didn’t ask me about my muggle family. You didn’t ask me about my parents. You didn’t ask me who I was or why I was there. All you asked was how the flying car ran for us.”

Molly tsks but Arthur lets out a small laugh at the memory. “The twins took it because Ron said they had to rescue you.”

“That’s right. And do you remember the second thing you asked me?” Harry doesn’t wait for a response this time. “You asked me if I knew the function of a rubber duck.”

“There is none!” Arthur says with another laugh, this one stronger than before.

“Exactly. That’s when I knew. I knew I belonged in this strange, wonderful place with these strange, wonderful people. So don’t for a second think you’ve failed me. I know my parents and Sirius and Remus are thankful for everything you’ve done for me, the same as I am.”

Molly can’t help but pull him into another hug. She squishes him between herself and Arthur, making Harry feel safe and protected once more. “Does this mean you’ll come back to Sunday lunch?” she asks.

“I can’t promise every week, but yes. I never should have stopped.” That earns him another squeeze. “So long as I can bring a guest.”

The hug ends abruptly. Molly has both of her hands over her heart. “You’ve found someone?”

Harry thinks about the date meeting he has scheduled for a week and a half from now. “If they’ll have me.”

* * *

Harry doesn’t know exactly what he’s going to say to Ginny and Ron, he just knows that he doesn’t want it to be one-on-one. Even if he’s ‘outnumbered’ per se, he’d rather have more than two people there in the room. Ron enters the clinic first and pulls Harry in for the slapping sort of man-hug that he does. And before Harry can even get a word out he declares, “This is not my fault,” with a gesture to the doors. His confusion only grows when Blaise walks in. Harry opens his mouth to ask something- anything- but he snaps it shut when Ginny follows behind him, linked together by their entwined fingers.

“Potter,” Blaise says in greeting. “Sorry to crash your little event here, but Ginerva only gets so many days off. I hope you don’t mind me tagging along.”

“Uhh,” Harry says unhelpfully.

“Brilliant. Your invite did say refreshments, didn’t it?”

“Blaise!” Ginny chastises him with a slap to the chest. “Thank you for understanding, Harry, but he can wait outside if you want.”

“Yeah, that’s, uhh.” Harry swallows. “Yeah. Just, have a seat and, um, relax. I can bring you tea if you want?”

Blaise declines and instead settles in to one of the overstuffed chairs and grabs an old copy of Witch Weekly from the pile of outdated magazines next to it. Harry ushers Ginny and Ron into the next room as quickly as he can without seeming too desperate to get away.

Right away, Ginny apologizes for bringing Blaise. She gives the same reason Blaise did, that they only get so much time together during her busy schedule. It helps that his stepfather owns the team but she still spends most of her days training and practicing or doing public events. Harry asks how she and Blaise got together, and Ginny is all too pleased to tell the story. Harry thought he might be jealous but he’s happy that she’s found someone and that they’re so good for each other.

Ginny asks about Oliver and Harry gives her the short version, that they broke up because they just weren’t working out. That makes Ron speak up for the first time. “I’m sorry, mate. I thought you guys were real good together. Though it says something that you never took him to any of those bloody awful events. I know having Lavender there with me makes them more tolerable. Speaking of, sorry for how I was at that gala for the orphanage. I noticed you weren’t there last year. Neither was the fer- I mean, Malfoy.”

Harry won’t apologize for quitting the aurors and hurting Ron’s feelings, but he does tell Ron that he’s sorry for not fighting harder for their friendship.

“No, don’t. I was a prat. I thought you were already slipping away so it wouldn’t matter if I gave you a little shove. Lavender and Mum and the rest of my family have already told me in no uncertain terms how wrong I was.”

“I just miss you, Ron. I know we can’t go back but I want to move forward. I want to make things right. We’re Harry and Ron! We’re inseparable!”

“I want that too. I can’t imagine the rest of my life without you in it. I mean, who else would I even want to be the best man at my wedding?”

“WHAT?!” Harry and Ginny yell at the same time.

Ron’s face goes instantly red from his neck clear up to the tips of his ears. “I…probably could have said that differently. But I proposed to Lavender.”

Harry starts to laugh, first with one little huff and then with loud guffaws. He puts his face down on the table and pounds his fist next to it. Leave it to Ron to just burst through a lifechanging announcement with as much subtlety and finesse as Grawp.

Ginny runs out of the room shouting, “I’m telling Mum!”

Ron runs after her. “NO! Come back! She’ll kill me for not telling her first!”

Harry watches them go with a shake of his head, coming down from his laughing fit. Blaise stands and shakes his hand. “Good to see you, Potter. I take it you’ll be around the Burrow more often now?” Harry nods, still wiping at his eyes. “Good. I really like Ginerva, but the rest of the Weasleys can be intense. And Lee Jordan keeps trying to be my friend.”

He wrinkles his nose with such disgust that Harry starts laughing all over again. “He’s a good bloke. He’s probably just hoping that you can get him Quidditch tickets.”

“Would that shut him up?”

“Unlikely.”

“Damn.”

Ginny’s head pops back in through the clinic doors. “Are you coming or what?” she asks Blaise, who tags along after her like a duckling after its mother, giving a cheeky salute as a final goodbye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M MAKING YOU WAIT! But Harry and Draco will be reunited in the next chapter. I promise.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE REUNION! as promised :)

Draco changes his outfit no less than three times in preparation for seeing Harry. He tears off his gray Armani suit almost as soon as he puts it on. Sure, it’s muggle, but it’s also more formal than he’s ever seen Harry dress outside of a Ministry event. The next two outfits don’t last much longer either, no matter how good he looks in everything he owns. Draco even considers wearing an old pair of his Slytherin robes from his Hogwarts days, but the hem is too short and it would probably make Harry remember how much they fought as children. He ends up going with a tan pair of trousers and an emerald green shirt (and if Draco picked it out specifically because it matches Harry’s eyes perfectly, then no one has to know but him).

Hermione already warned him that the person greeting him at St. Mungo’s might be a bored teenager, so he doesn’t bite his head off as soon as he makes a stupid comment- but only barely. Draco walks into the clinic and has to shove his hands into his pockets to hide how they’re clammy and shaking. He scans the room and finally his eyes land on the unruly mop of hair he’d been missing. Harry’s wearing his ever-present worn, denim jeans and muggle t-shirt with some brand logo. Draco feels like his smile is contorting his face in a strange way but that’s probably just because he can’t remember being this happy to see someone in a long time.

“Draco!” Harry shouts and waves unnecessarily considering the relative emptiness of the room around them.

“Potter,” Draco replies, but then immediately regrets it when Harry’s face falls. He didn’t mean anything negative by it. He’s just nervous. “Harry,” he corrects.

Harry’s smile comes back- if only half as strong- and he looks up at Draco through his dark eyelashes. “It’s good to see you. Would you care to talk?”

“Of course.”

Harry leads him to a room that is all too familiar at this point. He’s actually glad Draco is the last person he’ll be meeting here; he’s ready to leave the clinic and move forward with his life. He pulls out the chair for Draco and pours him tea just like he likes it. Draco takes the proffered cup and thanks Harry, sipping at it while watching him over the rim.

“It’s good to see you,” Harry says again.

“It is,” Draco agrees. “Thirty days didn’t seem like so long until I realized just how much time I had been spending with you and Hermione. Krum is fine, sure, but he’s no Boy-Who-Lived.”

He puts extra emphasis on the old nickname and they both laugh. It’s nice to be relaxed like this again and Harry says as much. “I want to propose something to you.”

“So soon? And without a ring?” Draco teases. “I’d at least expect you down on one knee.”

Harry blushes at the implication. “No, Draco, come on…” He rubs a hand over his face to center himself. “I’m asking you to move in with me.”

“Wait, what?” Of all the things Draco imagined Harry asking, this sure wasn’t one of them.

“Andromeda suggested you and your mother move in with her and while I think that’d be great, I also know that you like the freedom you have living in the Manor. In Andromeda’s house there would be much less space and even though Teddy is brilliant he’s also a small boy with no boundaries.”

His aunt had indeed hinted several times over the past few weeks that they should abandon the Manor, but Draco has no desire to leave. At least, he _didn’t_ have a desire to until Harry gave him another option. The only problem is that Harry and Hermione’s flat is already overcrowded. “But your place is even smaller,” he challenges, still not saying no.

“Oh, about that. When I leave here on Saturday, I’m officially signing over the lease to Hermione and moving into 12 Grimmauld Place. It’s going to take some work- I mean, Sirius had a hippogriff living in one of the bedrooms for a while- but I’d like to fix it up and make it a home.”

“Grimmauld Place?” Draco echoes. “My great aunt’s awful rowhouse in Islington? Does it still come with a cantankerous old house elf, or has he died with the rest of the Black family?”

“I freed Kreacher.”

Draco bursts out laughing. “And how did that go over?”

“He ignored me!” Harry yells with a huff, hands slapping onto the table in frustration. “I borrowed an old portrait of Nigellus Black from Hogwarts and had it convince Kreacher to go work at the castle instead of moping around an empty house. It told him that it’d be ‘an honor to the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black’ if he did. Kreacher popped away without a further question and that was the last time I saw him. Neville checks in on him from time to time and apparently he fancies himself the leader of the Hogwarts elves now.” He rolls his eyes with an exaggerated sigh.

“So you kicked out the house elf, but you want me to live there?”

“I, erm, well, yes?”

“And I suppose you’ll want me to do all the elf chores? Shall I call you ‘Master Harry’ as well? Perhaps iron my ears or slam my fingers in the door as punishment?”

He’s only teasing but Harry immediately narrows his eyes in frustration. “Oh, you mean like your family made Dobby do?”

“I was never mean to Dobby!”

“Your father sure was!”

“LUCIUS IS NOT MY FATHER!”

Harry stands up so quickly his chair topples over backwards and then stomps out into the corridor. He leans his head against the wall and slides down to a crouch. How did things get out of hand so quickly? Sure, he and Draco have always been able to get under each other’s skin but it’s not like he was _trying_ to this time. He hasn’t actively antagonized him in years! They’ve actually been getting along really well- or, at least, he thought there were. Maybe he’s the only one to feel that way. Harry fights against the urge to cry. He’s blowing this for himself and he doesn’t know how to fix it. With his eyes pinched closed, Harry feels more than sees someone slide down next to him. Then there’s a warm hand on his bent knee but he still doesn’t look.

“I’m sorry,” Draco all but whispers. “You obviously weren’t trying to start an argument. I know this isn’t a good excuse, but I’m scared. You asked me abandon the only home I’ve ever known in favor of moving in with you.”

“That scares you?” Harry asks, looking up at him for the first time since going out into the hallway.

“What scares me is that I’ve already made up my mind. I was ready to say yes the second you asked.”

“Really?” Harry asks hopefully.

Draco smiles back. “Yes, really. If I have to leave my mother, at least I’m leaving her with her sister. And I’ll be moving into one of my ancestral homes, so that’s a plus.”

“And you’re okay with me being there too?”

“We’re friends, are we not?” he says with a shrug, as though the very idea is simple and not a monumental significance in their lives.

Harry’s smile is nearly blinding. “That’s great! Now I know you work long hours but I’ll have the time for a while to fix things up, well, except for when I’m at the Weasleys’. Think I could talk you into going to the Burrow? Molly said I could bring a guest. And Blaise will be there, apparently, so you won’t be alone.”

Draco waves a hand around to get Harry to stop rambling. “What do you mean ‘Blaise will be there’?”

“He’s dating Ginny so-”

“I knew it!”

“Erm, well, yes, I figured you knew because you’re close and-”

“No,” Draco interrupts yet again. “I had no idea about Ginerva. I just knew that Blaise was hiding something from me. When did you say the Weasleys have lunch together?”

“I didn’t, but it’s on Sundays.”

“Of course! Blaise said he had ‘official Harpies’ business on Sunday afternoons, only I didn’t think the business was ‘shagging the star Chaser’ in nature.”

“Ew, please don’t.”

Draco laughs as he gets up from the floor. He offers his hand to Harry and pulls him up as well. They don’t return to the meeting room, but rather choose to sit on the comfortable sofas out front. Others walk through but Draco is surprised to find that no one stops to ogle at them. It’s as though they’re not even there. He imagines going out in public with Harry, enjoying a nice meal or just getting drinks after a long day at work. Could it really be this easy? It certainly wasn’t that night they went out for drinks, and it was the same the few times he was seen dating Terry. But Harry just seems so different now. Speaking of Harry…

He’s rubbing at the back of his neck nervously. “So,” he says and expectantly looks at him.

“So,” Draco repeats. “I apologize for not asking how you’re doing before starting a fight with you.”

At least that gets a smile out of Harry. He even relaxes back into the sofa a bit. “It’s always going to be something I have to work on, and the first 72 hours was an experience I never want to re-live again, but I’m doing better.”

“That’s good.”

“Yeah. First thing I’ll do when I leave is buy Healer Mason the largest gift basket I can find.” Draco lifts an eyebrow so Harry explains, “If it weren’t for her, who knows what sort of rough shape I’d be in.”

“She is good at what she does, I have to agree. Would you…” he coughs and starts again, “Would you want some help with that?”

“YES!” Harry blurts out and Draco has to bite his lip to keep his amusement at bay. “Yes,” he repeats, “I would love that.”

* * *

Harry talks Draco out of waiting for him at St. Mungo’s on the day he’s set to leave. He’s sure Hermione wants to be there as well, but he just wants to get back home. He has an exit interview with his healer team and they give him a meter-long list of upcoming appointments he must attend (or risk being re-admitted to the clinic). Some of them are with Healer Mason, others are with Healer Brown, and the rest are one-on-ones with his sponsor- a very nice man named Arlo. Harry thanks everyone and walks out of the clinic, taking one last look back at the place that just may have saved his life. Again.

He stumbles out of the floo- in what may as well be his signature move at this point- and into one of the most surreal things he’s ever seen. Right there, in the middle of his living room, is a literal stack of human beings. Viktor, Dean, and Ron are on their hands and knees, close enough that their shoulders and hips are touching. Hermione and Lavender are balancing on top of them, giggling as they wobble and try to keep level. Seamus and Draco are arguing about who should climb on top.

“I’m smaller,” Seamus points out.

“HA! Shorter, maybe, but definitely not _smaller_ ,” Draco sneers derisively.

“Are ya calling me fat?”

“I’m stating the facts.”

“Use magic,” Hermione cuts in. “A simple featherlight charm will make your argument moot.”

“Or I can do it!” Teddy’s little voice calls out from somewhere in the room. “I’m small!”

Harry looks around until he finally spots a tuft of neon yellow hair sticking up over the top of the easy chair.

Hermione throws a wink his way as she says, “Or maybe Harry can, since he’s right over there.”

The almost-complete human pyramid topples to the ground as everyone moves at once to see if Harry is actually there. There’s screaming and some creative non-swearing (they’re aware of the five-year-old in the room) and whole lot more laughing than Harry was expecting. He isn’t sure who makes it to him first but he only has a moment before he’s being smothered by more than one person.

The afternoon is filled with food and music and a surprising tale about how they all got together. Harry is astounded that everyone was able to put aside their differences to gather just for him (and by ‘everyone’ he means Draco and Ron). But as nice as it is to have such a large group of his friends there, Harry is glad when they start to leave. Even Hermione and Viktor go out which leaves Harry and Draco alone. Or, as alone as they can get with their godson/cousin.

When Harry expresses how badly he wants a shower and to change his clothes, Draco offers to watch Teddy. “Take as long as you want,” he tells him. “But when you’re done, we’re going to get out of here too.”

“Where are we going, Draco?” Teddy asks.

“How about you help me choose while Harry is showering?”

“YAY!”

* * *

They end up at Fortescue’s for ice cream. Teddy asks for two scoops and Harry says no, completely forgetting that Draco has the largest sweet tooth of anyone he’s every known, so he’s easily voted down. Teddy ends up with a towering cone of half raspberry ripple and half bubble gum, while Draco has an equally tall cone of double chocolate fudge. Harry is much more reasonable with a single scoop of kiwi lime in a cup. They split the cost and pick a cozy table in the corner of the shop.

Harry casts _impervious_ on Teddy’s clothes and forearms before asking, “When is Andi expecting him back?”

“She and Mother are making supper so we have him until then.”

“Is this ice cream such a good idea then? Will it spoil his appetite?”

Draco rolls him eyes. “You sound like Hermione.”

Harry levels him with an unimpressed look, but Draco is undeterred. He simply shrugs and goes back to licking at his ice cream cone. Harry watches the way his tongue wraps around the cold treat with a strange fascination. And then Draco catches him staring so he really starts showing off. Harry has to force himself to look away, lest he do something that will scar his godson for life. He clears his throat and tugs at the collar of his shirt, training his eyes back on his own ice cream.

“That sounds good,” he mumbles.

“Gran’ma and Cissy say there’s a surprise for you!” Teddy says proudly with bright pink smeared all around his mouth.

“Edward!” Draco hisses.

Harry plays nice and pretends like he didn’t hear Teddy spill the beans. He changes the subject to pets and asks for suggestions.

Draco reminds him, “We just got you an owl, remember?”

“Of course, and I love Minnie. But I was thinking about maybe getting a dog? Grimmauld Place has that small, fenced-in back garden.”

“Grim’old Place? That’s where-”

Draco cuts Teddy off by clapping a hand over his mouth. He cringes at the stickiness but it’s worth it to keep the news secret for just a little longer. But then Teddy’s eyes start to well up with tears and Draco has to pull his hand away and comfort the boy. In the end, there’s no use in holding out on Harry anymore. They walk outside of the shop and Draco tells Harry to hold onto him so they can apparate together. Harry notices people pointing at them but he blocks them out because he’s enjoying himself too much to care what may or may not end up in the newspaper anymore.

Completely not surprised at all by where they land, Harry opens the door to 12 Grimmauld Place and prepares himself for the screeching ignorance of Walburga Black’s portrait. But, thankfully, all that awaits him is an open corridor and a wonderful smell wafting through the air.

“Su’prise!” Teddy shouts and launches himself at Harry.

Narcissa and Andromeda call them into the kitchen and reveal to Harry what they’ve done. First, and most obvious, they’ve done a complete scrub down of the house. He will still have to go through and repaint or repaper walls and replace carpets, but at least it’s not covered in dust and filth. Next, they’ve taken down and destroyed the portrait of their aunt. Harry reaches out and hugs them thankfully as he wasn’t sure what he was going to do about that. And last, they’ve stocked the cupboards with all of the basics home chef could want. He knows it’s not ready to move in to just yet but it’s such a good start.

“I can’t thank you enough,” Harry says, truly humbled by their gesture.

“We said we would help,” Narcissa tells him. “We just happened to have the time right now. That, and Draco told us you would want to have it ready as soon as possible.”

Harry starts to thank him, but Draco waves him off. “You can thank me once it’s actually livable.” Then- as though he’s worried Harry might take it back- he adds, “If your offer is still open.”

“Of course I still want you to move in. I’ll even let you pick your room.”

“Can I pick a room?” Teddy asks with a bounce.

Harry looks to the two women who nod their assent. “After dinner,” he says and he wishes he had a camera to capture the look of pure joy on Teddy’s face. What he doesn’t know is that his own face looks the same exact way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My niece is turning 4 on Saturday so I'm traveling to see her this weekend. Short story short, no update until next week. Thanks for reading and commenting!!!! It warms my heart <3 <3


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has a lot going on (it might be the longest in the whole story), but I really liked writing it.

After a successful morning of renovating Grimmauld Place, Harry lets his good mood guide him to Andi’s house to see Teddy. She’s used to him coming and going by now and leaves the sitting room floo connection open for him during the day. Harry usually announces his presence once he arrives but this time he doesn’t have to go far to find her. Andromeda is sitting across from Narcissa and they both look up at him when he floos in.

“Ah, Harry,” Narcissa waves him over. “We were just discussing you.”

Harry’s cheeks redden because anything these two women were talking about regarding him probably also had to do with Draco, and that’s something he’s not ready to talk about yet. They’ve been spending more and more time together but their relationship status remains the same. He hangs his sooty jumper up on the hook next to the hearth as he replies, “Oh? And should I be worried?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, darling,” Narcissa practically purrs. “I was simply saying how I need someone to meet the Curse Breakers at the Manor tomorrow, and Dromeda suggested I ask you.”

Harry leans down to pluck a biscuit from the tray next to her, crunching into the chocolate treat as he sits down. “What about Draco?”

“He’s working a double-shift at the hospital.”

“And you won’t be there?”

She sighs and refuses to meet Harry’s eyes. “I’m scheduled to go to Azkaban to see Lucius.”

The biscuit turns to sawdust in his mouth. He swallows roughly and asks, “Why?”

“He has requested my presence.”

“I think he’s found out about you selling off his belongings,” Andromeda cuts in, looking as irritated as Harry is starting to feel. They both think that Lucius has lost the privilege to care about anything that Narcissa does anymore.

Harry holds back any negative comments and instead focuses instead on the fact that Narcissa and Draco have finally made some decisions about the Manor. It’s been a month since they last volunteered any details and it’s been even longer since the whole process started. Harry has tried to be as helpful as possible but it’s something that they feel they should do on their own, and Harry gets that. Malfoy Manor is the only home that Draco has ever known and Narcissa has spent more of her life there than anywhere else. But while they both decided they wanted to move on from the past, they’ve disagreed on _how_ to do it.

“I can do that for you,” Harry tells Narcissa. “But you shouldn’t do that anymore.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You shouldn’t go see Lucius anymore,” Harry clarifies.

Narcissa looks offended- and surprised, if her suddenly rigid posture is any indication- and she sets her cup down on its saucer so hard Harry’s afraid it may have cracked. “I may have tolerated remarks from my son and sister, but what I do with my husband is completely out of your control and absolutely none of your business.”

“Cissy,” Andromeda says softly as she reaches a hand out to her.

“No. I have had enough of you all badgering me on the topic and I most certainly will not allow anyone else to add in their two knuts! I have had my life decided for me for too long. I will do what I want now and no one will stop me!”

She swoops up and out of the sitting room, skirts billowing and fluttering behind her as she goes. Harry’s mouth is hanging open in shock. “I’m sorry,” Andromeda apologizes. “Normally she would have stopped at saying you were out of line, but this has been tough for her.”

“No, I’m sorry for pushing. I just know how toxic Lucius is and it hurts Draco that she still goes to see him. At least she stopped making him go as well…”

“That poor boy. I’m so glad he has you.”

“M-me?” Harry stammers.

Andromeda pats his knee. “Yes, you. Cissy says all he ever wanted was to be your friend, and now you’re part of his family. And it’s nice that your friends have begun accepting him too.” She gives him one more pat as she pushes herself up. “Now if you’re here to see Teddy, he’s at the Burrow with Bill and Fleur’s girls. But in fifteen minutes or so you can floo there to surprise him. They should be done with lunch by then.”

“That’d be great. And would you mind if he spent the afternoon with me? He could help me pick out things for his bedroom.”

“Don’t go spending all your money on him! He has plenty of toys as is.”

Harry laughs. “I know; I think I bought most of them.” Andromeda swats at his head and Harry ducks, laughing still. “Alright, no more toys, but he can still help pick out the bed frame and the paint.”

“Deal. And I’ll keep talking to my sister, weather or not she wants to hear it. I make no promises that she’ll listen but I’ll keep trying.”

“Thank you,” he says sincerely, hugging her and making his way to the fireplace.

* * *

Harry holds up his end of the bargain and goes to the Manor the next day to the meet with the Curse Breakers. They work slowly but methodically, analyzing the artefacts that Draco and Narcissa set aside. They also do a sweep every floor, casting charms and other spells to detect any hints of dark magic left behind. Harry is curious about what they’re doing but they tell him to keep out of the way, so he ends up bouncing a ball he found out in the garden against the wall like a bored child.

When their work is done they give Harry a written summary of everything to pass on to Narcissa and an approval for the place to be sold. He thanks them and sees them all out. But once the Manor is empty, he’s even less sure of what to do with himself. By the time Draco gets back from work, Harry is curled up asleep on a small sofa that he dragged in front the fireplace in the library ( _not_ the fireplace connected to the floo network). Draco shakes his shoulder gently to wake him up. “What are you still doing here?”

Harry rubs at his eyes and slaps his hand around trying to find his glasses. Draco picks them up from where they fell on the floor and hands them over. “Cheers. How’s your mum doing?”

“She’s not here,” Draco tells him. “When I found you I thought you may know where she is.”

He bolts upright, eyes and hair wild. “Draco. She was going to Azkaban today.”

“SON OF A BITCH!”

An entire shelf of books go flying off the shelves. Harry pulls his wand and levitates them back into their places. “She didn’t tell you?”

“Of course not! She knows I hate her going to see him! And now she’s missing! What am I going to do!?”

He puts his hands on Draco’s shoulders and gives him a good shake. “For one, we’re going to think rationally. We’ll go ask Andi and then if she’s not there we’ll go to the Ministry and file a report.”

Draco lets himself be pulled along and shoved into the floo. Harry calls out the address and grabs ahold of him to make sure they both get to their destination safely. They stumble out on the other side but Draco is off and walking before Harry can even get his bearings straight.

Andromeda first scolds them for their noisy arrival (“There are people trying to sleep, boys!”) and then tells Draco to relax because Narcissa has been there for hours.

He nearly collapses in relief, but thankfully Harry is there to catch him. “How did she seem? And why didn’t she come home?”

It’s not a good sign that she sighs and drops wearily into the nearest chair. Harry gently pushes Draco down beside her, as he seems too preoccupied to consider moving on his own.

“She didn’t say much, but from what I gathered it seems as though he finally crossed a line with her. I don’t know what but it must have been pretty bad to upset her like that.”

Draco is miserable but Harry is absolutely livid. This is what he was trying to avoid. He doesn’t want anyone to suffer because of Lucius Malfoy ever again.

Harry stays up with Draco- who never actually makes it to the guest room promised to him- all night and into the morning. Draco is closed off at first but Harry wears him down and soon enough they’re talking about everything; Narcissa, Lucius, his job at St. Mungo’s, wanting to move into Grimmauld Place, and wanting to leave Malfoy Manor to rot. Somewhere along the line the topic of conversation turns light as they start to share stories about Teddy and make predictions on his future. Draco thinks he’s going to be an artist. Harry thinks he’s going to play Quidditch. All things considered, the evening is enjoyable in a way neither of them expected.

* * *

Come morning, Narcissa is awake and willing to talk but she stops short in the sitting room when she catches sight of the sofa. Draco is propped up in one corner against a pile of decorative pillows and stuffed toys. Harry has his feet tucked up and is curled into Draco’s side, clutching his shirt in one fist and snoring lightly on his chest. Narcissa wishes she had a camera to capture the moment.

She leaves them for now and chooses to make tea while she waits for everyone else to wake. Andromeda joins her a short time later and she sets a pot of porridge simmering on the hob. They don’t have to wonder when Teddy is up because they hear him scream in joy when he finds his cousin and godfather. Harry comes into the kitchen still rubbing at his eyes. Draco follows after him with Teddy holding on to his hand and talking nonstop.

They eat breakfast and then Andi sends a rather oblivious Teddy to play in his room, just so they don’t risk him overhearing anything. Narcissa gives them the short version of the story. “Lucius told me I was failing him by selling the Manor. He told me I was failing you, Draco.” She waves off his interruption. “I’ve had time to think about it and I know he was just trying to manipulate me like he always has. I’m done with him for good. I promise.”

Draco takes her hand gently between his own and asks softly, “Are you sure? I know he’s horrid but you’ve always made it clear to me that marriage is for life and we shouldn’t abandon family.”

She gives him a sad smile and lifts her free hand to Draco’s cheek, pressing against it with a firm enough pressure that she knows he’ll be able to feel. “My sweet boy. That man has no place in our family. I’m only sorry that it took me so long to accept that.”

“What now?” Harry asks after giving them a moment.

“We sell everything. I’ll move in here and Draco will make his choice.”

“I’m moving in with Harry,” Draco confirms, just as he told Harry last night.

“It’s all settled then!”

* * *

They use all of the contacts they’ve ever made to sell off all of the Manor’s possessions, reaching out to some borderline-unsavory people for some of the rarer items. All the furniture they don’t want is donated to orphanages and homes for aging wizards and witches. Draco picks out a room at Grimmauld Place and makes a big production out of decorating to his tastes. Harry finds his mornings not so miserable and his nights not so lonely. He and Draco do an awkward sort of dance around each other, but that’s nothing new; there’s definitely something building between them but there’s also so much else going on to keep them from talking about it. But all in all, things are good. And then Draco gets paged at work.

The Manor is on fire.

He rushes straight there and hopes that no one was inside. Already standing on the front path is Narcissa, Harry, and Ron- the latter of whom must be there on an official capacity if the auror robes are anything to go by. A few other aurors are present and though no one is actively trying to put out the fire, they have put up shield charms around it so that the fire will not harm the surrounding flora and fauna.

“What happened?” he asks as he approaches them.

Ron gives Harry and Narcissa a significant look before turning towards Draco. “A fire was started.”

“Obviously I can see that, Weasley. Is there a more competent auror I can talk to?”

“Draco…just listen to him,” Harry pleads. He very nearly pouts and bats his eyelashes but refrains from doing so in front of their present company, for which Draco is unceasingly grateful (because he can’t be held responsible for what his reaction would be to such an action).

Ron shifts his gaze between the two and then starts again. “Someone set fire to the Manor. We think it was done on purpose.”

“But there’s no way to figure out who,” Narcissa is quick to add. _Too_ quick.

Draco squints at her critically, yet knows better than to say something in front of their present company. Instead, he stands next to Harry and watches his childhood home burn to the ground. He thought he might feel something but really he’s just relieved.

When all is said and done, the aurors’ final report will rule it an accident. Draco side-alongs his mother to Andromeda’s and then takes the floo back to Grimmauld Place. Harry isn’t around but there is a note from him tacked to Draco’s bedroom door.

> I went back with Ron. We’re going to get drinks when he’s done filing the paperwork. If you need anything, we’ll be at the Leaky. Don’t wait up for me. Unless you want to. Who am I to tell you what to do?
> 
> Harry
> 
> P.S. I hope today helped. I know it helped your mum.

Draco thinks that it has, indeed, helped to watch the Manor burn. He goes to the room he’s redone into a study and works on some filing, feeling for all the world that this is truly a new beginning. Meanwhile, Harry does what he feels is the only thing left to do (and it’s _not_ having drinks with Ron).

* * *

Harry stands in front of the prison cell and waits for Lucius to turn and face him. He doesn’t want to make the first move. Thankfully, he isn’t kept waiting long. A snarled laugh is twisted out of the depths of the cell. The sound turns Harry’s stomach but he doesn’t speak up or even flinch. Then, out of the darkness, looms a thin, pale figure draped in grey.

“Potter.” Lucius’s voice is as gravely as his laugh.

Harry stands firm, holding his chin up and looking down his nose with an air of confidence usually aimed in the opposite direction. “Lucius.”

He spits on the ground by the bars separating them. “Do not speak my given name as though we are familiar.”

“I don’t think you’re in a position to be giving orders.”

His gross laugh rings out again. “You were always so arrogant, Potter. What my son sees in you is beyond me.”

“Draco is not your son- not in the ways that matter, at least.”

Lucius immediately stops grinning and instead sneers at Harry, lip curling with disdain. “Don’t fool yourself; Draco will always be a Malfoy. He must be quite the storyteller to make you forget the evil he’s done. Or maybe you’re just blinded by his form.”

Harry clenches his fists at his side and grinds his teeth together in an effort to not react. He can feel his magic prickling just below the surface, waiting to explode out of him.

Lucius can tell he’s picked at exactly the right nerve and so he continues pushing his buttons. “I’ve always known that Draco was…pretty…for a man. It only made sense when he made his proclivities known, though he hid it well. Too bad for him the Dark Lord found out.”

“Stop it,” Harry warns.

“But then you probably know that,” he goes on as though Harry said nothing. “He was always bragging about being inside your mind as well. He knew your fears. He knew _everything_.”

“Stop it!”

Harry’s raw magical energy manifests in a wind that whips through the stone corridor. Lucius’s long hair flies around his face, adding to his crazed appearance.

“Though this is something not even the Dark Lord could predict. The Slytherin Prince and the Boy Who Lived. Tell me, Potter, would you have still fought against us if-”

“ENOUGH!”

Harry throws a hand out in front of him and a particularly strong gust of wind knocks Lucius down. The shell of a man doesn’t even wince. He just cackles from his landing place on the ground.

“Why are you here, Potter?”

“I am only here as a courtesy to Narcissa and Draco.”

“They’re letting you speak for them now? How low they have sunk.”

Harry ignores the jabs. “They’ve moved on with their lives and they will not be coming back. As far as they’re concerned, you’re dead to them now. And that means no one will ever visit you again.” He waits a moment to let that sink in with Lucius. “Draco has disowned you as his father. Narcissa has sold your belongings and torched the Manor. Your name means nothing. Everything you once held dear in this world is gone.”

For the first time since Harry got there, Lucius looks scared. His eyes are wide and they are darting side to side as though to look for some way out of his fate. But then his face contorts into a sick grin. “It’s obvious they just want something from you. They’ll come crawling back when they’ve gotten whatever it is they’re after.”

Harry could rise to the bait, but he calms himself and clears the emotions from his face. “Go ahead and think whatever you need to.” Then he swivels on his heels and strides back down the corridor. Lucius starts up his yelling once more but it falls on deaf ears. Harry knocks twice on the door to let the guard on the other side know to let him out. He spares one last look back at Lucius’s cell and then shakes his head with pity as he goes.

* * *

Back home, Harry walks straight to Draco’s study and opens the door without knocking. Draco is exactly where he left him, hunched over his desk pouring over various documents and ledgers. He looks up when Harry comes around his desk and his mouth tilts up in a smile. “Harry, what are you doing back so soon? I thought-”

Draco gets cut off when Harry grabs his face and pulls him in for a kiss. At first he’s too stunned to react, but then he melts into the feeling Harry’s lips moving against his own. He’s still sitting in his chair so Harry moves Draco’s hands to his waist and straddles his lap, never breaking the kiss. Then he lets his own hands wander over Draco’s chest.

Draco groans in frustration because he has to put a stop to this while he still has two brain cells working. “Wait,” he says as he catches Harry’s hands and puts their progress to a stop.

“Don’t wanna,” Harry mumbles as he leans in and attacks Draco’s neck with his mouth.

He groans again but holds steady. “Harry. Stop.”

Thankfully, Draco’s arms are there to catch Harry as he jumps back. “I’m sorry,” he says quickly, trying to extract himself from Draco’s lap. It’s obvious he thinks he’s done something wrong. Harry struggles for a bit before Draco holds him in place and forces him to look into his eyes.

“I’m not mad,” he assures Harry, “though I am curious what brought this on so suddenly.”

“I just came from Azkaban.”

“Do prisons usually make you so randy?” Draco teases, deciding to go for humor instead of frustration. “I mean, whatever gets you going.”

Harry punches him in the shoulder. “No, I was visiting Lucius.”

Draco considers shoving Harry to the floor right then and there but takes a deep breath and decides to give him the chance to explain. “And why would you want to do that?”

“I wanted to tell him that you and your mother are never going to visit him again. No one is going to. Ever. He’ll die sad and alone and getting everything he’s ever deserved.”

“And, naturally, your next move was to come straight here and molest me?”

Harry has the decency to blush at the comment. “Well when you put it like that…sure, it sounds bad. I just knew I wanted to be away from there as soon as possible, and the first place I thought to go was here. With you.”

Draco drops his forehead onto Harry’s shoulder to give himself a chance to think about all of this. He’s wanted Harry for so long, and now he’s right here and willing. Not to mention he told off Lucius and defended Narcissa’s decision to leave him. But why now? What made him suddenly up and visit Azkaban on their behalf? And what made him run straight here afterwards?

“You’re thinking too hard,” Harry whispers into his ear.

Draco snorts as he raises his head slowly. “Perhaps thinking is below a Gryffindor such as yourself, but when I find myself in a surprising situation I at least take the time to ponder how it is I got there.”

Harry quirks his head to the side. “Sounds boring.” Then he jumps off of Draco’s lap and pulls him to his feet. “Let’s go to bed.”

“P-potter! I don’t think-”

“One, stop calling me ‘Potter’ and two, I just mean to sleep. It’s been a long day and we have a lot to talk about later. All I want right now to is put on comfy pajamas and cuddle. It can be the pillow or it can be you; your choice.”

He turns and leaves the study, counting to himself as he goes. 5, 4, 3, 2, 1…

“Harry!”

He smirks as Draco’s footsteps hasten to catch up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it! I'm working on what I think will be the last two chapters, so whenever I get the ending done I'll start posting more often.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I liked the last chapter but I like this one even more. It's angsty but fluffy.

As if by some unspoken agreement, Harry and Draco don’t talk about the kiss (or the subsequent night of snuggling). The next morning Draco has to wake up for work, so he reluctantly extracts himself from the octopus-like hold that Harry has on him and gets ready for his day. He feels a bit like he’s sneaking out on a one-off, but quickly brushes away that thought before his imagination runs away from him and makes him late.

He makes his standard toast and tea while he flips through the most recent edition of the Quibbler. Minnie hoots softly as she glides in through the window Harry charms open for her. Draco will deny it to his grave, but he makes it part of his breakfast routine to always have a few owl treats ready for her. She crunches on them and pecks playfully at the newspaper every time he turns a page.

Then Harry staggers into kitchen like he does every morning, hair and clothes still a rumpled mess. He rubs at his eyes as he clunks around getting out what he needs for breakfast. He’s never awake enough to notice the way that Draco watches him, but he knows that he likes sharing a meal with someone.

With one last glance at his watch, Draco charms his dishes to wash themselves in the sink and then says goodbye to Harry. He puts his lime green healer robes on and heads to the floo. Work is uneventful- but with magical creature attacks that’s not a bad thing. He checks in on the little girl, Eveline, who got turned by a werewolf last week. She’s doing a little better than the day before and Draco even gets her to laugh at stories about Teddy. Maybe he should bring him by to play with her on his next day off? But thoughts of Teddy quickly turn to thoughts of Harry and he pushes them out of his mind (and by ‘pushes them out of his mind’ he means ‘continues to think about Harry for the remainder of his shift’).

The delicious aroma of dinner greets Draco as he floos back home. After the toast for breakfast and the hospital commissary food he bought for lunch, he can’t wait to dig into whatever it is Harry is making. He hangs his robes up and then showers before going downstairs.

“How was work?” Harry greets him as he walks into the kitchen.

Draco sets the table as he answers, “Calm. Quite unlike when a certain auror tried to get himself killed.”

Harry groans, but it ends in a laugh. “Yeah, well, I heard he was a bit of a tosser anyway. Even quit his job.”

“Sure,” Draco agrees with a wink, “but he’s not so bad once you get to know him. And, if I may be so bold as to say, I think he likes how things are turning out.”

Harry has to look away to hide the blush on his cheeks, but his smile can still be seen. “Alright, alright. Eat up.”

* * *

And that’s the way things go for weeks. Draco gets up and goes to work while Harry does who knows what, they share dinner together, and then evenings are split doing work (or doodling, in Harry’s case) in the study or watching films in the lounge. Harry is trying to catch up on everything he missed while living with the Dursleys and Draco is just along for the ride since he’s never seen anything besides what they’ve shown him the past two years. Sometimes Hermione and Viktor come over, and sometimes they go pick up Teddy so that he can spend the night. But regardless, Draco finds that he likes the little routine they have.

And then there’s the day Draco comes home to find a giant hole in the middle of the kitchen.

“What in the buggering fuck…” he wonders aloud. Mouth agape, he turns in a circle examining the damage. Even for an old house such as this one it is just not natural for a floor to cave in, and if the pattern of debris is anything to go by then it seems whatever caused the explosion came from the cellar rather than the main floor. Draco kneels down and puts his hand to the stones and they seem to vibrate under his fingertips. He realizes all at once what magical signature he’s feeling. “Harry?!” he yells out.

He takes the cellar steps two at a time but finds no one down there. Back in the kitchen, he casts a shield spell over the hole and continues on his search of the house. He checks their lounge, the study, the library, Harry’s bedroom, the guest bedroom, and his own bedroom- all the while calling out Harry’s name. He even ventures up to the still unfinished third floor, but to avail. Draco pulls at his hair, trying desperately to think of where Harry might be. Then he thinks of an idea. He whistles and calls, “Minnie!”

Flapping wings and a screech signal the little owl’s arrival seconds before she lands on Draco’s outstretched arm. Her talons dig in to his arm just a bit but then he casts a cushioning charm and it’s no longer a problem. “Hullo there, my smart girl,” he coos just like Harry does when he thinks no one’s listening. “Do you know where he is?”

Minnie flaps her wings and pulls Draco towards the door leading to the back garden. He walks that way and she hoots loudly, so he starts jogging. Once outside he scans the small space and still doesn’t see Harry, but then Minnie launches herself off of his arm and takes to the sky. Draco follows her path and sees a lump waaay up on the building’s roof. Even from the ground he can make out Harry’s wild, raven hair.

“Seriously?” he grumbles to himself. Then he pulls his wand and apparates, nearly falling when he lands on the uneven tiles. Quick thinking is the only way he keeps from tumbling three stories down into the grass. He casts a sticking charm and drops to his hands and knees. “Merlin’s bollocks, Potter! What are you doing up here??”

Harry is curled up into a ball with his knees pressed up under his chin, his arms wrapped tightly around them, and the sleeves of his jumper stretched over his hands. He lifts his voice just loud enough to be heard over the wind. “Go away,” he begs.

Draco’s not about to give up that easily. He shuffles around so he’s crouched next to Harry. “I risked my neck coming up here so you’re stuck with me now.”

“I didn’t ask for your help.”

“That seems like a whole lot of not my problem.”

“Draco…”

“Healer Mason would say it’s good to talk about it, but quite frankly I’m just glad you’re alright.” Much quieter he adds, “I was scared when I couldn’t find you.”

Harry swings his head around to glare at him, but all the fight leeches out of him when he sees that Draco is being serious. “Please don’t make me.”

“No one can make you do anything you don’t want to.”

Harry scoffs. “Now, maybe.”

The first few drops of rain hit them and Draco reconsiders his Gryffindor decision to just jump on the roof. “Come inside?” he asks hopefully.

“You can.”

“I’ll make you hot cocoa.”

“No, thank you.”

Draco discreetly removes his sticking charm. “I’ll do the laundry.”

He shakes his head.

“I’ll…go out and buy you that dog you keep talking about.”

That actually gets a snort out of Harry but otherwise he doesn’t budge. It starts to rain harder and Draco’s had enough. He gently lays a hand on Harry’s elbow and then apparates them directly into their kitchen. Harry gasps and clings to Draco, hating apparation even in the best of circumstances. As soon as they land in the house Harry makes to run off but Draco holds him in place.

“Let me go!”

“Tell me what happened!”

“No!”

“Yes!”

“It doesn’t matter!”

“It matters to me!”

“Why?!”

And isn’t that the question of the year. Draco looks down at the man struggling in his arms, pulling and kicking and running from everything. “Because you saved my life,” he says evenly. “Because you stood up for me.” Harry stops trying to get away and turns to look at him. “Because if you walked in and found out that I’d blown a hole in the house, you’d never stop trying to make it right; no matter how many times I told you to leave me alone.”

Draco can tell the moment Harry lets himself go because he sinks to his knees right there in the middle of the kitchen. He stares down into the hole as though it opens into the fiery pits of hell itself, rather than just their dry cellar. After a minute of tense silence he says, “The door locked.”

“So you blasted through the ceiling?”

Harry’s glare nearly burns a hole into Draco. He holds up his hands in self defense and sits quietly until Harry’s ready to go on.

“The door locked and I panicked. It hasn’t happened in a long time. There were plenty of worse nightmares to fill my mind.” Harry’s lip sneers at the memories. “I’ve seen so much death, you’d think that’d be what scares me the most. But I guess you just can’t outrun the ones that went on the longest.”

Draco suddenly thinks he may be in way over his head with this one. Maybe he should call Healer Mason or another one of Harry’s healers? “I’m sorry, Harry. I-”

Harry cuts him off with an eerie laugh. “Sorry? Draco, do you want to know the worst part about all that talk you did about how Muggles were awful, inferior creatures?”

Draco would rather not bring up those memories. “I was stupid kid.”

“No, you were right. The muggles that raised me were monsters. They were no Voldemort, sure, but they were monsters in their own right.”

“Harry, you don’t have to-”

“YOU WANTED ME TO TELL YOU SO I’M TELLING YOU!” Harry snaps and the room goes cold; colder than the rain outside had been. Draco tries not to shiver but he just can’t help it. Everything about this is wrong.

“Do you want to know?” Harry snarls, and against his better judgement Draco nods. “They locked me in a cupboard! I was five years old and they locked me in a cupboard for crying! And do you know _why_ I was crying? Because I skinned my knee on the gravel outside and I wanted my mum to kiss it and make it better!”

Harry doesn’t know it yet, but Draco is the one person who can understand. Draco remembers a similar event in his own childhood. One of the prized white peacocks was chasing him and he fell, scraping his knees and palms. His father may not have locked him up but he did leave him there to sort it out on his own. And at supper that night Lucius made it clear that tears over something trivial were not to be tolerated, lest one needed an example of something truly worth crying over. Draco doesn’t share this, not now, because right now is about Harry.

“Can you imagine a boy wanting his mum?” Harry says mockingly. “What an unusual request that was! And once they realized locking me that cupboard made me essentially disappear, that was my new home. I was denied everything. My basic dignity was stripped away! Do you know, when I first got my Hogwarts letter it was written to: Harry James Potter, Cupboard Under the Stairs? They knew. They _knew_ and they did _nothing_!”

Draco wraps Harry up and squeezes him close, letting him cry and rage. It’s all he can think to do because he can’t even believe this is the way Harry grew up. He knew from Hermione that Harry no longer speaks with his muggle family, but this is beyond what he imagined. “The stories magical children were told about you…I had no idea. I thought you’d grown up famous.”

“Quite the opposite, I can assure you.”

“Look, Harry, I’m-”

“If you say ‘sorry’ I’ll hex you.”

He’s glad to hear Harry calm and at least somewhat like himself again. “Deal. But maybe talk to one of your healers tomorrow?”

Harry knows that Draco’s right, so he nods in response.

As the two are sitting there on the floor, Draco starts to run his fingers through Harry’s hair. He snickers softly to himself when he gets stuck in the tangles and lets his hand drop.

Harry dares to look him in the eye. “I haven’t had an episode like that in a long time. I swear it won’t happen again.”

Draco shrugs one shoulder nonchalantly. “It might.”

He looks back, confused. “Because I’m weak?”

“No, because you’re human. Besides, could a weak person do that much damage?” he gestures to the hole.

Harry buries his face in his hands and groans. “I am so sorry. It was my magic.”

“Obviously!” Draco chuckles. “I figured you didn’t just punch through with your fist.”

“Yeah I’m not Bruce Banner.”

“Who?”

“The Incredible Hulk.”

“Again, who?”

“It’s a comic book character. He’s a doctor or scientist or something, and after an accident he turns into this giant green beast whenever he gets angry.”

Draco gives him a disbelieving look at the description, shaking his head. “What muggles find entertaining will always amaze me.”

Harry smiles but then it falls when he spots the hole out of the corner of his eye again. “I need to get my magic under control.”

“Is your wand broken or something?”

“I tried to repair it with the Elder Wand but it’s been temperamental ever since.”

Draco jumps back like he’s been burned. He doesn’t mean to startle Harry by having such a strong reaction but he just can’t help it. “You’ve used the Elder Wand? As in, _the_ Elder Wand?”

Harry rubs at the back of his neck awkwardly. “I sort of…own it. I won it from Voldemort. Or, well, actually _you_ won it from Dumbledore and then I won it from you.” Draco’s eyes nearly bug out of his head, so Harry figures he has nothing else to lose. “I own all three of the Deathly Hallows, actually.”

“You…you…what?”

“The Invisibility Cloak you already know about.” He doesn’t have to specifically mention the time Draco kicked in his nose and threw the Cloak over him back in their sixth year. “Dumbledore found in the Resurrection Stone in Gaunt’s ring and gave it to me. I dropped it in the Forbidden Forest during the battle but figured that it wouldn’t be safe to just leave it laying there, so I went back and got it later.”

Call it morbid curiosity, but Draco just can’t help but ask, “Have you used it?”

“I did. I saw my parents and Sirius and Remus.”

“A-and the Elder Wand?”

“Draco, I’m still me. The Deathly Hallows are only a legend. They’re just…things.”

“Magical, _powerful_ things,” Draco adds. “You do realize that’s why your magic has gone all wonky, right? You shouldn’t be using some patched up wand; you should be using the Elder Wand.”

Harry groans and pushes himself up from the floor. He rolls his neck and stretches out his back. “I’ll think about it. But first thing tomorrow I’m going to go see Seamus about getting this fixed. Then I’ll call up Healer Mason.”

Draco stands up and steps in front of him. “And what of tonight?”

“What are you implying?”

He moves closer. “Only that I know how hard it is to sleep when there’s so much on your mind.”

“I’m not going to take Dreamless Sleep, if that’s what you mean.”

They’re nose-to-nose now. “It isn’t.”

“Draco…” Their lips brush on the word. “Stay with me again?”

He nods with a smile and takes Harry by the hand, guiding him up the stairs to his bedroom.

* * *

They still don’t talk about it.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just a fluffy mess.

“Can we leave this place yet?” Draco whines for what feels like the hundredth time.

Harry rolls his eyes but Teddy beats him to a response. “But Draaaaaco!” He stretches the word out as he hangs from Draco’s arm. “We still need to find you the best costume everrrr!”

“That’s unnecessary, seeing as I won’t be dressing up.”

Teddy’s bottom lip pooches out and quivers slightly, which would make Draco feel bad if not for Harry making the identical sad face right beside him. The two of them got the idea to turn Grimmauld Place into a haunted house for Halloween. Teddy is inviting over friends from his primary school and Harry is getting the _fidelius_ charm lifted, claiming that it’s time to reenter the real world. They can’t stay hidden away there forever. Draco isn’t too sure about any of it but try as he might, he just can’t say no to these two. “Fine. What did you end up picking out for yourself?”

Harry holds up a pirate costume, complete with eyepatch and peg-leg. Draco makes the mental comparison to Mad-Eye Moody and shudders. He can’t stop himself from practically melting, however, when he sees Teddy hold up an identical- though miniature- version for himself. Teddy has always favored his godfather’s dark hair and green eyes when he’s around, and Draco would be lying if he said he didn’t find it adorable.

“You’re going to make a smashing pair of pirates,” he tells them with soft smile. He looks around at the endless rows of muggle costumes and feels more than a little overwhelmed. “Perhaps you can just pick mine for me?”

Teddy gives a squeal and takes off across the shop. “Stay where we can see you!” Harry shouts, though he makes no move to follow him. Then Draco feels a hand slip into his. “Hey. You alright? I thought Halloween was sort of your thing.”

Draco makes a critical tsk that would put Molly to shame. “And why, dare I ask, would you think that?”

“You dressed up like a dementor to scare me.”

“That was one time!”

Harry has spent enough time with Draco by now to know that bringing up their past never ends well. Instead, he just tries to assure him that he’ll love the holiday festivities. Draco is unconvinced but he chooses to not say anything further. Instead, he holds up their intertwined hands and gestures to them in question. Harry’s cheeks darken and says, “About that. I was wondering if you wanted to-”

“I FOUND IT!” Teddy yells as he comes streaming toward them. But when Harry reaches out to take the costume, the boy quickly hides it behind his back. “NO! It has to be a surprise.”

“Can I have a look at least?” Draco asks him. “Seeing as I am the one who has to wear it, after all.”

Teddy makes Harry turn around and then shows Draco, who starts laughing so hard he has to lean against the wall lest he fall over. Harry’s dying to know what Teddy found that got Draco to finally loosen up, but he promised not to peek. By the time Harry is allowed to turn around again, Draco has already paid for the costume (with only minimal confusion when using the pounds he had exchanged from his galleons) and he has it hidden away in a paper bag.

After purchasing his and Teddy’s costumes and then stop by a local pizzeria on the way home (Draco wanted Mediterranean but was outvoted- a increasingly common occurrence that he’s still getting used to), Harry sets about finalizing his plans to transform the house for the holiday. The children will enter through the front door, into the main floor lounge, across the kitchen, down to the cellar, take the steps out to the back garden, and then exit through the gate onto the alley that runs behind their rowhouses. Each room will have a different theme and he’s looking forward to using his magic on something fun for once.

“Can I help?” Teddy asks, dragging a chair over next to Harry’s at his desk in the study. Draco watches them from over the top of his book.

“Of course. Ron already gave me the idea to make one room full of spiders!” Teddy giggles behind his hands. “And I think we’re going to fill the cellar with Peruvian Darkness Powder.”

“I don’t like the dark,” he says with wide eyes, no longer laughing.

Harry ruffles his hair. “Me neither, so I was thinking we could do something fun out in the back garden to make up for the scary cellar.”

“PUMPKINS!”

Draco snorts but he dips back behind his book when they turn around to look at him. Harry just shakes his head and says to Teddy, “Pumpkins are a great start. Maybe we can get enough so that everyone can carve faces into them?”

“I’ve always wanted to do that,” Draco admits, all pretenses of reading gone as he tosses his book down onto his desk. “Oo! And we could set up tanks to do bobbing for apples!”

“Just get over here and help us, you berk.”

“Yeah! You berk!” Teddy echoes, causing Harry to cringe in embarrassment and pray that Teddy won’t repeat the word in front of his gran.

* * *

Draco has to take all upcoming weekend shifts from two different mediwitches and one healer to get Halloween off, but it’ll be worth it. At least, that’s what he reminds himself when he floos home and sees the piles of decorations still waiting to be charmed into place. He grumbles to himself as he trips over yet another pumpkin. Where is Harry anyway?

He changes out of his robes and into an old t-shirt and pair of sweatsuit joggers that once belonged to Harry. Draco swears he only wears them because Harry can’t pull off the look, but what he doesn’t know is that Harry only bought the clothes because he knew they would look good on Draco. (It doesn’t even occur to Draco that if they really _were_ Harry’s, the bottoms would be several inches too short.) He’s just striding into the kitchen- which is currently covered in faux cobwebs- when Harry bursts into the room. Draco’s mouth drops open as he takes in his appearance.

Harry is dripping in sweat and he’s wearing the smallest running shorts Draco’s ever seen. He lifts his shirt to wipe off his face, but that just gives Draco a glimpse of his abs.

“Draco!” Harry startles when he tugs the hem of his shirt back down. “I didn’t see you there.”

All he can put together in response is, “Uh…”

Harry gets a glass out of the cupboard and fills it with water from the tap. Then he turns around and leans back against the bench. “Were you able to get the holiday off?” he asks between sips. “Viktor and Lee got permission to bring their little Quidditch kids so if you can’t be there I’ll have to recruit some more help.”

“Ah, um, no, I mean, yes, I mean…” Draco shakes his head to center himself. “I’ll be working all weekends for the foreseeable future, but I will be here for Halloween.”

Harry sets his glass down and gives him a grateful look. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Are you kidding? This haunted house thing is all you’ve been talking about for weeks! I couldn’t miss out on all your fun.”

“I’m still sorry you have to lose your weekends.”

Draco brushes away the comment with a wave of his hand. “It’s not as though I do anything.”

Harry runs his fingers through his hair, the sweat making it stick back from his face for once. “Well, I was thinking maybe we could do something.”

“We’re already doing something,” he gestures to the half-decorated kitchen.

“I know, but I meant something _else_.”

Still misinterpreting Harry’s implication, Draco’s brow furrows in confusion. “I know we have to finish decorating but I thought we did all the planning already. I suppose we could have a bonfire though I am worried about the open flames with the children around, or in general actually, but if that’s what you want to do then I’d be okay with-”

“DRACO!” Harry cuts off his rambling with a chuckle. “I meant a date. With me. You and me, out on a date. If you’d like to, that is.”

“Oh.” His eyes cut down to Harry’s legs but then pop right back up to his eyes. They look to hopeful. And then they look nervous, shifting slightly. Draco realizes he has to answer quickly before Harry starts thinking he’s rejecting him. “Yes! Of course, yes.”

“Thank Merlin,” Harry breathes out with a huff. “I know we haven’t talked about it but I was hoping we could get away from the city and do something.”

Draco can’t keep the smile off of his face. He was starting to think it was just him feeling something more, and that Harry really did just need a warm body to hold some nights. “That sounds nice. So long as you wear something other than this.”

Harry looks down at his clothes, fighting the blush off his face. “They’re my running clothes. I wouldn’t wear them on a date.”

“Since when do you go running?”

“I started when I left the clinic. I usually go when you’re at work but I met with Hagrid for lunch and had to put it off.”

“Cool, cool,” Draco responds in a decidedly not-cool way as he’s still distracted by those tanned, toned legs.

“You should join me sometime.”

“I don’t run.”

“Maybe I’ll just get you a pair of these shorts, then, since you seem to like mine so much.”

Draco splutters some more and Harry laughs as he pushes away from the bench. He stretches up on his tip-toes and pecks Draco on the cheek as he walks past him and out of the room.

* * *

Harry and Hermione- with help from Professor McGonagall- lift the _Fidelius_ charm a week prior to the holiday and manage to convince the surrounding neighbors that yes, Number 12 has always been there and yes, the haunted house will be child friendly and open to everyone. Harry is careful with his magic when decorating the outside of the house, using muggle strategies when at all possible. He’s also been exclusively using the Elder Wand, though he has it glamoured to appear like any other ordinary wand. It won’t fool someone who knows what to look for- and it certainly isn’t doesn’t keep Draco from peering over his shoulder every time he goes to use it- but for now it’s enough.

On Halloween day, they invite all of their friends over to Grimmauld Place to have an early dinner and change into their costumes before people arrive. Harry is a pirate, Dean is Blacula- a reference to a 70s film that’s lost on the purebloods- and Seamus is Frankenstein’s monster, Hermione is a muggle doctor, Ron is wearing an authentic Chudley Cannons kit, and Lavender is a princess. Just as Hermione starts to ask what’s taking Draco to so long, he comes into the kitchen and everyone bursts out laughing at his costume. Well, _almost_ everyone.

Harry takes in the outfit first. Draco is wearing what looks sort of like Hogwarts robes if you were to squint, though the emblem is rather generic as though it could be on any London schoolboy’s uniform. Underneath that is a plain white, collard shirt that Harry knows Draco does not own any of and a tie that is striped in not-quite Gryffindor red and yellow. But then Harry’s eyes track upwards and he sees the goofy, round glasses and black, moppy wig. He snaps his gaze to Draco’s forehead and-

“Are you supposed to be me?” he blurts out.

Draco bites his lip and wonders if maybe his costume choice wasn’t the best after all. He thought it was hilarious when Teddy showed him, but perhaps Harry doesn’t see the humor in it. “The label just said, ‘Wizard Boy’ but who else could it possibly have been referring to?”

Harry crosses the room so he’s right in front of Draco. It’s so weird to be looking at a facsimile of himself, especially a younger version. Did those glasses always look so bad? He certainly hated them enough. And his hair? He touches his own absentmindedly. “How…?”

“Someone at the costume company could be magical,” Hermione offers from her place at the table. “Or maybe they have a relative who is.”

Harry nods his head but otherwise gives no response. Draco leans closer to Harry and whispers, “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. Would you like me to change?”

“NO!” Harry can hear Dean and Seamus snickering at his reaction, and he can practically feel Hermione’s eye roll. “I mean, you can leave it on. If you want.” He risks a glance up at him and Draco is biting back a smirk.

Just as the sun starts to dip behind the horizon, everyone takes their places. Hermione and Draco are out front greeting children and talking to parents, inviting both to go through the haunted house together. Dean, Seamus, and Lavender take turns leading groups through the house. First they guide them into the lounge, which has been decorated to look like an abandoned mansion. There’s a massive chandelier hanging from the ceiling, thick cobwebs everywhere, and fake ghosts floating through the room that have been spelled to mimic the appearance of whomever looks at them. George is very proud of the spells he developed for them, even if he’s not there to see the final product. An organ even plays creepy music with the keys moving all by themselves (though Ron and Draco don’t really believe Hermione when she says that muggles have the technology to do that already). The best part of the room has to be the actual magical portrait that Dean painted and charmed to talk to people as they pass. After the lounge, guests go to the kitchen which is set up like a laboratory. Draco used his advanced potions knowledge to keep the cauldrons bubbling but safe the entire time. And though the spider-filled cellar stairs were originally his idea, Ron does not go anywhere near them or the pitch-black basement. He’s out back with Harry playing games with the kids.

The night is a complete success! Narcissa and Andromeda bring Teddy by. He’s very brave, holding Draco’s hand through the rooms and only closing his eyes through the cellar. Draco makes sure to use the camera Dean brought to take pictures of Harry and Teddy in their matching costumes. Viktor and Lee’s small group of Quidditch players from their children’s league stay the longest, screaming and laughing through the house multiple times.

When the crowd starts to thin and the streets begin to clear, they lock up the front door and make sure everyone is out of the house. Harry doesn’t want to kick anyone out so he lets the stragglers stay in the garden until nearly midnight. But all good things must come to an end, and finally Draco talks him into sending the last few people away. Teddy is already sleeping in his room upstairs, and everyone else has left, so Harry and Draco make sure to reset their new wards before heading inside.

“This is going to be a nightmare to clean up,” Draco says with a grimace as he looks at the mess in the kitchen.

Harry chuckles softly and shrugs. “Yeah, but I don’t mind. It was fun.”

“For you or the children?”

“You’re the one dressed like me as an eleven-year-old.”

“And you like it.”

It’s not like he’s wrong. “Just…keep it, maybe? For…reasons?”

“Perhaps we can have our first date before we discuss roleplay.” Then he turns on his heel and leaves a spluttering Harry staring after him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I say this every other chapter, but I am going out of town and probably won't update until next week. I don't even know if that matters to anyone, I just don't want you to think I've disappeared and abandoned the story :)


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter used to be entirely different because I had Harry flooing somewhere else after the first bit. It was almost surprising how much changed once I had him end up somewhere else.

Ever since Draco moved in with Harry, Blaise has become a frequent guest. He has mostly-memorized Draco’s work schedule and knows when to come by, yet on occasion he’ll floo in to find only Harry there. Harry can usually avoid him by going out for a jog or busying himself with fixing up the third floor. But today he doesn’t even notice Blaise come in.

“No, no, no! This cannot be happening.” Harry is digging through his old Hogwarts trunk, which now sits in the study and holds his most important belongings. His throws the Invisibility Cloak out over his shoulder. It’s quickly joined by his old wand, the leather satchel Hagrid gave him for his seventeenth birthday, a few old textbooks, a fragment of the two-way mirror, and a handful of badges. “NO!” he yells again, pounding his fists against the lip of the trunk.

“Need some help there, Potter?” Blaise startles him with the question from across the room.

Harry’s on the verge of tears, and maybe it’s that helplessness that makes him feel as though he has nothing to lose by telling Blaise, “I’m out of money.”

Blaise doesn’t know how to respond to that. First he thinks Harry might be having a laugh, but then he sees the desperation in his eyes. “How?” is all he can think to ask.

“I’ve been living off of a- rather large- sum of money I took out of my vault before going on the run. I had Hermione charm a bag with an undetectable extension charm, filled it with the gold, and then buried it behind Arthur’s garden shed at the Burrow. I went back to get it after the war, and since I don't have too many expenses I've been using that money ever since.” Harry sighs heavily and adds, “Until now.”

“No offense, but isn’t your family loaded? Can’t you just go to Gringott’s and withdraw more money?”

He gives a nervous, humorless laugh and admits, “I’m afraid to face the goblins after what we did.”

“Well, lucky for you we know people with connections.” Blaise enlists the help of Bill Weasley to get Harry to at least go to Gringott’s and talk to them.

The goblins are indeed still angry for the damages done to their bank, but they accept Harry’s apology- and sizeable payment- and don’t ask nearly as many questions as he was expecting. Feeling lucky, Harry asks about making his inheritance from Sirius legal. The head goblin grunts and leaves, returning a few minutes later with several keys and rolls of parchment.

“Mister Black already had all of the paperwork properly filed before the time of his death,” he explains to Harry. “As sole benefactor, you have complete access to the Black vaults and properties.”

Harry signs for Grimmauld Place and three other properties, the farthest away being in the Scottish Highlands (though he’s disappointed to find that it’s not anywhere near Hogwarts). He isn’t sure exactly what to do with them but they’re all legally his now. Perhaps Draco could help him? He puts that thought aside for another day and then asks about the vaults mentioned. The head goblin gives him keys to the personal vaults of Sirius and Regulus, as well as the Black family vault. Harry chooses to come back some other time- with Blaise, perhaps, or maybe he should hire someone to take care of his finances in a more permanent capacity- and catalogue everything there. All he knows for sure is that he now has way more money and valuables than he’ll ever be able to spend. He’ll have to work on putting it all to good use, but there’ll be time enough for that later. For today, he only takes money out of his own vault and then thanks Blaise and Bill for all of their help.

No longer burdened by the guilt of destroying Gringott’s- or the stress of being out of money- Harry apparates to the Burrow. When he thinks of his happy place, this is it; especially now that his relationships with the various Weasleys are now on the mend. The wards welcome him in before he even gets to the door. Harry knocks twice and opens the door into the kitchen only to stagger back slightly at the scene unfolding before him. He isn’t sure what to focus on first.

There’s wizard rock music blaring from the wireless (Harry doesn’t know who it is; he’ll always favor muggle bands), several pots bubbling over on the hob, a flock of multi-colored canaries flying overhead, a bubble large enough to hold a person floating past him and out the door, an unusual smell in the air that he just can’t place, and to top it all off he sees most of his old Gryffindor Quidditch team sitting around the table in various states of undress.

“Uh…” he says, gaining the attention of everyone in the room.

“Harry’s here!” Angelina Johnson cheers. Immediately the cheers of the others echo back.

He has a butterbeer in his hand before he can even blink and then she’s pushing him down into the empty chair between Katie Bell and Demelza Robins. Harry greets them both, attempting to not look at their lacy brassieres. “What brings everyone here?” he asks after gulping down half his drink.

Lee looks to George out of the corner of his eye and waits for some kind of sign. George gives a bashful smile, dropping his head with a small nod. Lee practically beams at him. Then he says to Harry, “George wanted to test some things out and we needed people to practice on. But then we got bored and decided to play Exploding Snap.”

“ _Strip_ Exploding Snap,” Alicia Spinnett corrects him.

“There may have been a little bit of alcohol involved.” Demelza holds a straight face for all of two seconds before she bursts out laughing. “Alright, so maybe _a lot_ of alcohol.”

The truth is that Harry doesn’t really care so much what happened here, but rather that it happened at all. George is like a completely different person than when he saw him last. He’s obviously been working on inventions and the fact he wanted to invite friends over is amazing.

They deal Harry in and get him a few shots so he can catch up. A lot of gossip is tossed around- mostly about how their old housemates are doing- but Harry blocks almost all of it out, only listening with half an ear. Never one for the game, Harry quickly finds himself without his jumper, trousers, and socks. He’s seriously considering calling it a night when Angelina asks about Oliver.

“Didn’t you hear?” Lee says as he leans in conspiratorially. “He had been playing terribly for months.” Harry starts to sweat under his collar. “Nobody knew what was going on with him. He was real secretive about it.”

Did none of them know he and Harry were seeing each other? They never went public, sure, but he figured  _someone_ would have blabbed. Should he say something?

Lee goes on, completely oblivious to Harry’s internal conflict. “Well, just a few days ago he was out at a pub with his team and they found him in the toilets getting sucked off by MARCUS FLINT!”

Gasps and a chorus of, ‘NO!’s barely register to Harry’s ears; he mostly hears static. “I’ve um…” he stands ups, “I’ve got to go.”

George calls after Harry but the sound is swallowed up by the still incredulous voices crying out in the kitchen. It isn’t until he gets outside that Harry remembers he’s only in his pants and a t-shirt, though thankfully he still has his wand. But that’s when George catches up to him. “I won’t let you apparate,” he tells him. “You’ve been drinking and you’ll splinch yourself.”

Harry supposes he’s right. “I can go in and use the floo, yeah?”

“Of course, Harry, but… look, is everything alright? If we said something to upset you…If _I_ said something…”

“No, no. This was fun. Really. And I’d love to come round more often than Sunday lunch, if you’re feeling up to it now?”

George gives him that small, bashful smile again. “I’d like that. Besides, I figure my investor might like to try out some of the new product?” He says it like a question, as though he’s not even sure of it himself.

Harry wants to reach out and hug him but he holds back for now, not knowing how much George is ready for. He opts for a light punch (more of a tap, really) to his shoulder. “I believe that was our original deal.”

George ruffles Harry's hair and for a second it’s just like it always used to be. Then he takes a deep breath and offers, “Would you like me to side-along you instead? If you don’t want to go back in, that is.”

“Are you sure you’re up to it?”

He shrugs. “Why not? I’ll just pop onto your front steps and pop right back. I can do that, right?”

Harry wonders who he’s trying to convince but in the end he agrees. George’s arm is tense as Harry holds on, and his hand shakes when he lifts his wand, but they land on the front steps of Grimmauld Place (which have a perpetual disillusionment charm for just this purpose) in one piece. George’s face is deathly pale and Harry suggests that he floo back instead. He nods and lets Harry guide him to the fireplace in the lounge, and he already looks better by the time he’s whisked away by the green flames.

Draco is standing there when Harry turns around. “Why were you helping Weasley into the floo? And where are the rest of your clothes?” he asks, the concern in his voice genuine.

“I lost them and George was actually helping me. I drank too much to apparate so he side-alonged me, but it’s the first time he’s left the Burrow and he wasn’t doing so well so I thought flooing back would be better for him.”

“You are always so chatty when you drink,” Draco says fondly.

“I’m not drunk.”

“Oh, I know. I’ve seen you pissed. But even one drink just…loosens your lips.”

“I’ll show you loose lips.”

Draco has to put his hands on his shoulders to hold him back. “Let’s get you to bed.”

Harry wolf whistles. “Draco’s taking me to bed! That’ll show Oliver!”

“Woah.” Draco stops their movement towards the stairs and walks around to face him. “Want to run that one by me again?” Harry pinches his lips together and emphatically shakes his head no, but Draco’s not taking any of that. He folds his arms across his chest stands firm. “You can walk yourself to bed and we can speak about this in the morning.”

He pouts but does as Draco says and gets himself into bed on his own- a fact which he is unreasonably proud of.

* * *

Harry wakes up with a groan and a massive headache. He’s not hungover- he didn’t drink enough for that. He just drank enough to get jealous and say stupid things. Not looking forward to confronting Draco, yet knowing it’s the only way to fix this, Harry rolls out of bed and gets dressed for the day. (It won’t occur to him until later that he left some of his clothes at the Burrow and will have to go get them eventually.) He doesn’t take the time to shower but he does brush his teeth and cast a quick freshening charm under his arms.

Draco isn’t in the kitchen but there’s a cup of coffee under stasis. Harry greedily drinks it down, only pausing momentarily to pour in sugar to cut the bitterness. He skips his usual breakfast fare and grabs a packet of crackers instead, crunching them as he goes in search of Draco.

He finds him in the second place he looks: the study. Draco is at his desk with his fingers steepled and face twisted up in concentration. Harry clears his throat softly. “G’morning.”

The only part of Draco that moves is his eyes. They dart over at Harry and then right back the other way again.

Harry sighs, running a hand through his hair self-consciously. “I seem to remember you saying we could talk about this?”

“By all means. Talk.”

“Draco.”

“Or don’t. What do I care?”

“Draco!”

He finally moves, slapping his hands down on the desktop in front of him. “What?!”

“I’m sorry!”

“Sorry for what?!”

“I’m sorry that every serious conversation we try to have devolves into a yelling match!”

Draco hangs his head because he knows he’s at least half to blame for that, if not more. “I’m sorry for that too. But how do you suppose I should react? I mean, what was with you yesterday? I know we haven’t gone on a real date yet but I thought…” he trails off, not sure how to put it into words.

Harry drags his desk chair over so he can sit across from Draco. “I’m sorry about that; I didn’t mean to hurt you. It’s the last thing I would do. I was just caught off guard when Lee told us about Oliver hooking up with Marcus Flint, of all people.”

It pains Draco to ask, “Do you want to get back together with him?”

“NO!”

“Then why did you say you wanted to make him jealous?”

Harry scrubs his hands over his face in frustration. “You were there when Oliver broke up with me! You can’t tell me you didn’t hear what he said.” Draco remembers what he and Hermione walked in on nearly a year ago. How could he forget? He nods and Harry goes on, “He…wanted things…that I wasn’t ready to give, but apparently Flint was.” He looks up with reproachful eyes. “And I drank enough to think what I said to you was funny, but really I’m just afraid.”

“You’re afraid of dating me?” Draco says quietly. He stands up slowly and crosses to the front of his desk, so he’s in front of Harry. He sits down on the edge and stretches his legs out in front of him. “Is this still about what the papers might print?”

“No, of course not. I just don’t want you to leave me like he did.”

“Then I only have one more question.” Harry nods for him to continue, expecting the worst. “Are you willing to give me a chance _before_ you decide I’m just like him?”

That certainly wasn’t what he expected. “What?”

“I can’t promise that a relationship will work out between us, but I can promise to never push or coerce you into something you don’t want. I had hoped you knew enough about me by now to trust me.” He kneels down in front of Harry. “So are you going to give me a chance? Or are we just going to remain friends and roommates? Because I won’t hold it against you if that’s what you decide.”

“You still want to try?” Harry asks, nonbelieving. Draco nods and that’s all he needs. He launches himself at Draco and holds on tightly. “Thank you,” he murmurs into his neck. “I don’t deserve a second chance.”

“You deserve everything. I’m going to make sure I have a day off next week so we can do this right. Any ideas?”

“I have a few.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Take a guess what the next chapter will be about! :-p


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A giant THANK YOU to everyone who has read/commented/left me any kind of love. On the exact same day, this story hit 200 kudos and another one of mine hit 600. I would (and do) write because it's fun for me and I will keep going even if no one else ever reads it, but it's also a big morale boost to know that someone out there likes it as well. So thank you :)

Of all the things to do on a first date, traipsing through the Scottish Highlands in the middle of winter was not what Draco envisioned. He says as much and Harry just laughs, reminding him that technically winter doesn’t start until the solstice in December. “If there’s snow on the ground then it’s winter,” Draco snarls through his clenched teeth.

Harry casts another warming charm over them (which seems to appease Draco ever so slightly) and then takes his hand and pulls him in the direction he thinks they’re supposed to be going. “Hermione’s map says it should be just over this hill,”

“It’s _all_ hills, Potter! It’s the Highlands!” But his words get picked up and carried away by the wind.

Sure enough, as they crest the top of the next hill they spot a modest single-story house. It has stone walls and tiled roof. Harry was expecting a thatched roof, but figures it must have gotten damaged at one point and then replaced. There’s a large birnam oak just to the side and he imagines a child climbing its low branches, enjoying the summer sun in such a lovely place. Draco elbows him and gestures to the door. They quickly move inside to get out of the cold.

The interior of the house is just as modest as the exterior. There are no paintings or portraits on the walls, no ornate furniture, no sign of wealth beyond the sturdiness of the house itself.

Draco scoffs at the appearance. “I can’t believe the Blacks owned this. Are you sure this isn’t the servants’ quarters? Perhaps there’s a Manor up over the next hill or something,” he adds hopefully. This can’t be what they’ve come all this way for.

“You know…” Harry says slowly, thoughtfully. “I’m starting to think the Black Family may not have been as wealthy as they liked to pretend they were.” Draco gives him an incredulous look. “No, hear me out. This looks like a farm house- albeit a nice one- and Grimmauld Place is nothing but an urban rowhouse once we stripped away the pretentiousness. I’d be willing to bet the other properties aren’t extravagant either.”

“But…my home…”

“Was _Malfoy_ Manor,” he finishes for him. “Now there’s a family that had a lot of money.”

Draco’s nearly pouting now, lip pooched out and arms folded. “What about the vaults you inherited?”

“There’s a lot in the vaults, sure, but it’s mostly heirlooms. Blaise says some of the more expensive items are likely to be parts of dowries and wedding gifts, or simply things picked up along the way from business deals. I’m not saying they were poor by any means, but the Blacks had no more than the Potters. They just lived longer.”

“This place is still a dump.” He kicks his toe at a clump of dirt on the floor, knowing they were most likely the ones to drag it in.

Harry rolls his eyes because he actually likes the place. Draco’s just being a baby. He isn’t sure if he can see himself living here permanently, but it would be nice to get away from the city and just enjoy nature every so often. He decides to save the idea for when it’s warmer out in favor of teasing Draco now. “We could always burn it down. Do you know when your mum might be free to help us out?”

Draco sets him a glare but he can’t hold it very long. First his lip starts to twitch, and then he’s grinning. “I knew she was the culprit!” he says with a laugh. “She was all too smug that day.”

“Come on.” Harry takes his hand again, very much liking the feeling of their fingers intertwined. “We’ll take a look around and then have some supper.”

There is basic furniture in every room and not much else. Harry vanishes a mouldy mattress but decides the rest looks in good enough shape to at least donate, if not keep. The only piece of any interest is a spindle-legged piano in the sitting room. The old one at Grimmauld Place was in such rough shape there was no saving it, and he’d like to replace it with this one.

When Draco asks him what he wants to do with the house, Harry isn’t really sure how to answer. “I’d like to keep it but perhaps I can see if there’s a local family that would want to purchase it? Although I couldn’t begin to tell you where the next property begins. It’s not like there’s any other houses in view.”

“As much as I know I’m going to regret suggesting this, we could go for a walk tomorrow and see if we come across anything. Even if there’s just protective warding someplace, we should be able to tell.”

Harry goes outside to get some wood for the fireplace while Draco works inside. By the time he gets back in, Draco has an area _scourgified_ and their sleeping bags unrolled. Then he sets out some of the food they brought along and they both sit down for their first official date night.

Draco usually prides himself on being quite eloquent in social situations (or at the very least more eloquent than Harry), but he’s suddenly at a loss for words. The silence between them isn’t awkward, necessarily, yet it’s filled with a tension that he just can’t shake. Harry must be feeling it as well because after a few minutes of sneaking glances at each other over their meal he blurts out, “So what’s your favorite color?”

Draco blinks several times, staring at Harry like he has spiders crawling out of his ears. “Excuse me?” he asks when he regains his composure.

Harry blushes but shrugs off his slight embarrassment. “Favorite color. Do you have one?”

“Green, but why are you asking?”

“Isn’t this what people do on first dates? Mine is blue, by the way.”

Draco figures he can fight it, or just go with it. In the end he decides to play along. “Interesting,” he says as though he really means it. “I would have figured Gryffindor red.”

“Maybe, but I had enough of it at school. I mean, you saw our Quidditch kits…”

“Did I ever,” Draco mutters under his breath.

But apparently not so much that Harry didn’t hear. He bites his lip and ducks his head, only daring to look up at Draco through his eyelashes once he’s sure he won’t blush again. “I may have noticed you, too.” They smile at each other and then Harry asks, “Favorite spell?”

And so the ‘first date questions’ continue long past their meal, and they reveal secrets both serious and inconsequential. Draco admits that he used to love being an only child and getting his parents’ undivided attention, but now he wishes he had more family. This prompts Harry to tell him more about the Dursleys and how he also wishes he had more family. Draco shares that he knew he was gay from the moment he had his first wet dream (about whom, he won’t say), but Harry wasn’t certain until he kissed Cho Chang (and then solidified the idea after briefly dating Ginny). Draco says he actually liked Divination and swears there was a true seer in the Malfoy family. Harry tells him about using the Half-Blood Prince’s book in Potions during their sixth year and finally doing well and enjoying the course. This leads Harry to apologize for the _sectumsempra_ incident later in the year but Draco shrugs it off and swears it didn’t leave much a scar.

“Whatever counter curse Snape used- combined with the dittany from Pomfrey- made it so all I have are some thin lines that just look like I slept on crumpled sheets. But they’re nothing compared to what the Dark Mark left behind, and that was of my own choosing.”

“Some choice,” Harry grumbles. “That wasn’t your fault.”

“And it wasn’t your fault in the toilets that day. I was going to curse you. It only made sense that you would fight back. I think a part of me even wanted you to. To just end it all.”

Harry leans over and catches Draco’s lips with his own. He wants to kiss away all of the bad, but their past is simply too full to be erased. All they can do now is replace the old memories with new, better ones. Harry moans when Draco wraps an arm around his lower back and pulls him in so they are flush against each other. He lies back, pulling Draco down with him. There’s some maneuvering so they’re both comfortable but their lips never part. Harry wishes this could go on forever, that is until he feels Draco’s hardness pressing against his hip. He lets out a yip and pulls away. A look of hurt flashes across Draco’s face, but he follows Harry’s gaze to his own groin and realizes what happened. He moves off of Harry and settles down next to him.

“I’m sorry,” Harry whispers. His eyes are pinched closed and he looks almost ill.

Draco nudges his legs so he can pull the sleeping bag up around him and then slides down into his own. “Don’t apologize. I’m okay with this.”

“How can you be?”

“Because it’s you.”

Harry stays curled up on his side, but he does relax when he feels Draco slide up behind him.

* * *

Harry wakes in the middle of the night when Draco gets up to use the toilet. It’s obvious he’s trying to be quiet when he sneaks back into the room, but he still apologizes when he realizes Harry’s awake.

Harry shakes his head. “I wasn’t asleep. Maybe it’s the sleeping bags or the strange location, but I had a nightmare about our time on the run. I’ve been up ever since.”

“You should have said something.”

“I didn’t want you to miss sleep, too.”

“I’m up now. Tell me.”

And that’s how he tells Draco everything that happened between Bill and Fleur’s wedding to their capture at Malfoy Manor. Draco asks very few questions, responding mainly with nods and hums, just letting Harry get it all out there and off his chest. He finishes just as the sun is coming up, yawning and his eyes slipping closed.

Draco lets him rest.

* * *

When Harry wakes up again, it’s to the sound of music. He’s momentarily confused because they didn’t find a radio when they looked around the house, but then he remembers that they _did_ find that piano. He scrambles to his feet to go investigate. Treading lightly so as not to be heard, he steps quietly across the wooden floors. The music gets louder as he approaches the sitting room. Then he peeks his head in and, sure enough, Draco is sitting down in front of the piano. It sounds off- like it’s out of tune from years of disuse- but the melody is light and Harry can’t pull his eyes away from the way Draco’s fingers move across the keys. He plays for about a minute more before the song comes to its natural end.

“I didn’t know you could play the piano.”

Draco swivels around and smirks at him, knowing that Harry had been there watching the entire time. “Mother had me take lessons when I was a child. Lucius said it was something only girls learned, just like drawing and calligraphy.”

“Those things aren’t just for girls.”

“ _I_ know that, Potter.”

For once, the name doesn’t make Harry wrinkle his nose in disgust. He understands now that it’s Draco’s version of a term of endearment. “Is that why your handwriting is so…?” he finishes the question with a flourish of his hand in an imitation of Draco.

“Just because yours is a poor excuse for the written language doesn’t make mine anything special. But yes, Mother taught me well.”

“I like your mum.”

“I’m rather fond of her, too.”

Harry laughs as he pulls Draco up and shoves him toward the front door. “I want to go search the property and look for neighbors now.” And when Draco expresses his dislike for idea, Harry reminds him who came up with it in the first place.

So, albeit somewhat reluctantly, they set out. The day is warmer than the previous evening had been thanks to a lack of wind. It makes Harry think about that last Quidditch match of the year, when the air is so crisp and clear. He misses playing Quidditch and flying in general. Maybe Lee and Viktor would let him help with their children’s league? Or he could come out here and fly. There doesn’t seem to be anything around besides the thick patch of trees they’re currently walking through.

And maybe it’s because his mind is already so full of other thoughts that he doesn’t pay attention to where they step. Draco’s fingers slip from his just seconds before he lets out an otherworldly scream. Harry has his wand ready to curse whomever is there, but all he sees is Draco clutching his leg. And blood. Lots of blood.

Harry freezes just as he did when the he realized the basilisk fang pierced his skin in the Chamber of Secrets. He freezes like when Ron got splinched and again when Nagini attacked Snape. It’s no wonder he didn’t make it as an auror. He hears a drumming sound, repetitive and low, and lets it carry him away.

“Harry! HARRY!” Draco is yelling at him, trying (and failing) to stay calm. He’s in so much pain but Harry is staring blankly and murmuring, “No, no, no,” over and over again. Draco reaches out and picks up a rock. He chucks it at Harry and hits him square in the chest, stopping the noise once and for all. “Get it together, Potter! I stepped in some sort of contraption and I need help. You need to apparate us somewhere. And soon.”

Harry’s eyes start to focus once again and Draco would be relieved if not for the tremendous amount of pain in his leg. Harry spots the source of Draco’s suffering; a crude, metal animal trap is poking spikes into his lower leg. He takes a deep breath and tries to breathe through his nose. Using the Elder Wand, he places Draco’s leg into stasis and adds a couple of cushioning charms for good measure. Then he picks Draco up bridal style. “Hold on tight, yeah?”

St. Mungo’s is too far to travel in one go and Harry isn’t sure if Draco can handle apparating twice. They need someplace closer. Harry pictures it in his mind- not just the castle, but the exact floor he wants- and waves his wand. The wards resist his entry and try to force them back, so he focuses his magic on pushing through them. Draco squeezes him tighter and starts to groan in pain. Harry uses that as motivation for one last push and with a pop they land with a tumble onto the familiar stone floor of the Hospital Wing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CLIFFHANGER! To be resolved next time...


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not related to this fic: Is anyone else as obsessed with the Olympics as I am??? I've watched so much Curling in the last week and I'm okay with that.

This time of year, Poppy Pomfrey tends to more sniffles than anything. Between the cold weather and long hours spent studying for end of term exams, most students that see her prior to the winter hols have nothing more than the common cold. It’s not as though she wants her charges to be sick, but there are some days when she wishes there were more of a challenge. She’s currently tending to a student with an upper respiratory infection- an easy medical fix, especially in the wizarding world- when two bodies suddenly appear out of thin air.

“Good lord!” Poppy shrieks at the appearance of her former students. She isn’t sure what to look at first. Draco is holding his bloody right leg and it’s stuck through with something, and Harry is laying unconscious in a heap. Where did they come from? Were they on the property already? Surely the Headmistress would have alerted the staff if their visit was planned. And if they weren’t on the property, then how did they get through the warding? Not to mention the fact that no one should be able to apparate within the castle. She sees the Elder Wand hanging limply in Harry’s hand and shakes her head at the very notion of the power necessary to do that. Then again, Harry was always strong.

“Heeelp,” Draco groans out.

She snaps into action and levitates Harry into the nearest empty bed before doing the same with Draco. She casts a diagnostic spell on Draco first and then sets about gathering potions. There’s one to stop the bleeding, another to clean and sanitize the wound, and a third to help regrow the skin. On her way back she grabs a standard pain relieving potion as well. She holds up the vials and says, “I gather you’re familiar with these, Healer Malfoy?”

Even through the pain he is surprised she knows of his status. He grits his teeth and nods. “Yes, ma’am.”

She uncorks all four potions and sets them on a tray directly to Draco’s left. “This is going to hurt,” she warns him. Draco nods again so she steadies her wand and with a flick of her wrist the animal trap splits in two and flies off in opposite directions. Even though he screams, he reaches a shaky hand over and picks up the first vial. He drinks it down and then quickly follows it with the others. All the while, Madame Pomfrey casts spells over his leg.

Draco falls back against the pillows and waits for the potions to kick in. “Thank you,” he sighs.

“While I thought my days of seeing you two in here were over, I daresay it’s still my job.”

He huffs as much of a laugh as he can muster. “Magical exhaustion,” Draco diagnoses Harry from his bed. “I can’t believe he got us in here directly.”

She walks over and tsks over Harry’s prone frame, casting a diagnostic charm again. “It’s supposed to be impossible.”

“He survived the killing curse. Twice. I think it’s safe to say that anything is possible from him at this point.”

“And you two are…” she pauses, “friends now?”

“We were on our first date, if it can be believed.”

She looks at Draco over her shoulder, mouth quirked up in amusement. “It’s not so unbelievable as you might think, Healer Malfoy.” She turns back to Harry and drops the spells. “And I agree with your diagnosis. He has clear signs of magical exhaustion. We’ll let him rest for now.” She draws the blankets up around him and then asks Draco, “May I ask how long he’s been using that wand?”

He gulps nervously. “Since just before Halloween. It’s rightfully his and he says it works better than his old one.”

“Don’t worry; I’m not looking to take it away from him.” She runs her fingers over the distinctly knobby woodgrain. “Just call it a childhood curiosity.”

Madame Pomfrey leaves to clean out the used potions vials and before she even returns the doors to the ward burst open. None other than Headmistress McGonagall enters and nearly sprints to his bedside. “What on earth have you gotten yourself into, Draco?”

“I’ve been asking myself the same thing for years,” he drawls.

That earns him a swat from his former professor, but then she’s pulling him in for a side hug that seems just as awkward for them both. She quickly lets go and moves around to Harry’s bed. “I felt the wards. They put up quite a fight.”

“So did he. I wasn’t sure we were going to make it- not that I even knew where we were heading, but I should have figured as close as we were he’d try here.”

McGonagall _accios_ a chair and sits primly between their bed frames. “And where were you, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Harry inherited a farm house and we were checking out the property. He was hoping it would be nearer to here than it was.”

“Is he looking to move out here? I thought he rather liked living in the city.”

“No, he’s spent so much time fixing up that old house that I doubt he’d ever let it go. But you know how much Hogwarts still feels like home for him.”

Madame Pomfrey returns and joins in on their conversation. They continue their small talk for a while before the women leave to attend to their regular duties and let Draco rest. He wants to stay up and wait for Harry to regain consciousness, but the excitement of the day starts to catch up with him. He fights against his yawns until his eyelids slip closed.

* * *

Harry jolts up to a sitting position with a gasp. He immediately tries to fuss over Draco but then Madame Pomfrey is there, pushing him back down and telling him to be calm. “He’s asleep. And you did quite a number on yourself,” she says with a click of her tongue.

“He’s alright?”

“Yes, thanks to your quick thinking. Though I wouldn’t suggest you trying a stunt like that one again.”

“That’s what you said after the Lake Task.”

“And yet here we are.” Harry gives her a shit-eating grin, to which she responds with a very unamused expression. “I’m going to go get you some Pepper Up. And when I come back I expect you to still be in your own bed.”

He’s tempted to slip into Draco’s bed just to mess with Madame Pomfrey, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t scared of what she might do. So instead he settles back against his pillow to wait for her. That’s when he hears giggling. Leaning around the partition he spots two girls watching him. One is in a pair of black and yellow Hufflepuff pajamas and the other is standing by her bedside in Slytherin robes. Harry feels a momentary pang of jealousy, that these girls get to be friends regardless of their house affiliation, but then he remembers that he played a part in making that possible. He gives them a little wave and the girls start giggling all over again.

The potion that Pomfrey brings him does help and he’s finally able to relax. He sends his patronus to Narcissa and tells her a brief description of what happened- making sure to highlight the point that Draco is alright- and is not surprised when she strides into the ward less than ten minutes later. What _does_ surprise him is that she’s followed in by Ron.

“My baby!” Narcissa cries as she rushes to Draco’s bedside.

Ron rolls his eyes but he has a fond smile on his face as he does so. He walks over to Harry and greets him with a hug. “What are you doing here?” Harry asks. “Not that I’m not glad to see you! We still need to talk about your stag, by the way, but how did you even know where we were?”

“I was visiting George at the Burrow when Missus Malfoy floo’d in with Teddy. She apparently was watching him when she got your message. Mum has Teddy over with Victoire and Dominique all the time so George said he’d stay with him while we came here.”

Harry fiddles with the rough blanket over his legs. “You didn’t have to rush over though. I’m okay.”

Ron nudges his legs out of the way gently so he can prop himself up on the edge of the bed. “You’re my best friend and I spent too long with my head up my own arse. I’ll always be here when you need me. And yes, we definitely need to talk about my stag.”

They share a laugh and the remaining tension between them dies away. Harry gestures over to where Draco is now sitting up and talking with his mother. “He stepped on an animal trap when we were exploring my new property.”

“Is he going to be alright?”

“Yeah. You spent about as much time here as I did, so you know Madame Pomphrey is the best. My guess is he’ll just have to stay off it for a while. It’ll probably make him mental, but he’ll be fine.”

“Oi,” Draco whines, getting their attention from his bed. “Stop gossiping about me and get over here.” He makes grabby hands for Harry, who practically shoves Ron out of the way as he scrambles across the short distance.

Ron honestly thought he’d be disgusted by seeing them together, but looking at them now… he thinks that maybe this was how it could have always been had their lives not been fraught with warring factions. A memory passes through his mind: they’re eleven years old, standing outside the Great Hall with all of the other first years, Harry is offering his hand but Draco snubs him. Another memory: they’re fourteen, the Yule Ball is upon them, Harry makes a point of not asking any girls but also mentions repeatedly that Draco doesn’t have a date either. And another: they’re sixteen, he finds Harry up at all hours with the Marauders Map, he’s watching the footsteps labeled ‘Draco Malfoy’ almost religiously, Harry and Draco have several passionate public fights, they’re clearly obsessed with each other. “Merlin’s tits!” he shouts with a gasp.

Narcissa shushes him and gestures to the two girls still on the other side of the ward, Draco gives him a disgusted look, but Harry bursts out laughing. “Ron just had an epiphany,” he explains.

“Do share,” Draco drawls with a much more amused expression than before.

“I…you…but…”

“Eloquent as ever.”

“Draco!” Harry and Narcissa admonish at the same time.

“Apologies. But do spit it out, Weasley.”  
“You two fancied each other back in school!”

Harry groans and rolls his eyes, not because Ron is right but because he can’t believe Ron really is this dim. “You cannot possibly just be realizing this now. You told me all the time how ‘obsessed’ I was with him.”

“Obsessed about stopping him from doing something bad, sure. But I didn’t know it was like _that_. GODRIC’S GHOST! Is that why you didn’t give away our identities that day at the Manor? Were you already in love with Harry back then?”

This is quickly spiraling into an uncomfortable territory and Draco wants to put an end to it before it gets completely out of hand. “One, will you keep your stupid voice down? Two, I didn’t identify you because I’m not a soulless monster. And three, maybe.”

Ron’s eyes pop open and his mouth stretches unnaturally wide. “I knew it!”

“Auror Weasley!” Madame Pomfrey scolds as she steps around the partition. “You are not to disturb any of my patients, and I am not asking you- I am telling you- to be quiet. In fact, finish up and be on your way. And by that time I expect you to be back in your own bed, Mister Potter.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Harry and Ron grumble together.

Narcissa gives them a minute alone, which also gives her a chance to talk to Madame Pomfrey about the extent of Draco’s injuries.

“Sorry,” Ron apologizes to them both. “I just never imagined the two of your together like this. I knew you’d gotten close lately and I automatically assumed I would hate it. But I don’t. You work well together, for whatever reason, and I sort of wish you could have had a chance to explore that sooner.”

Harry is rendered speechless by this admission but Draco gathers himself enough to ask, “When did you become so introspective and empathetic?”

Ron simply shrugs. “Blame Lavender.”  
“She’s good for you,” Harry says with a soft smile.

“She is,” Ron agrees with an even softer smile of his own. “Which is why we’re getting married in the spring.” He stands up and stretches out his long legs. “Let’s meet up this week and make some plans for the stag night, yeah?”

“Sounds good. Send me an owl or just floo over. One of us will be around.”

Narcissa is back at their bedside almost as soon as Ron leaves. She gives them both more hugs and says she’ll stop by Grimmauld Place the next day to check on them. Draco asks her to bring Teddy (and Andromeda) and she promises to do just that. Then Madame Pomfrey shoos Harry back into his own bed and forces them both to sleep.

* * *

She lets them go the next morning, with strict instructions for Draco to take the next week off of work (she’s already owled St. Mungo’s her orders, so there’s no point in him arguing) and for Harry to look after him and make sure he doesn’t push himself too soon.

Back home, Draco is a much better patient than Harry expected him to be. He uses cushioning charms on his healing leg when standing but otherwise relaxes. He gets really into watching documentaries on the telly and spends most of the day on the sofa with Minnie snuggled up on his shoulder. Harry is jealous until he realizes that he really doesn’t have any plans and can join them. He sits on Draco’s right and gathers a blanket around them. Minnie lets out a contented rumble and tucks her beak into her feathers.

The day is about as perfect as it can get, and maybe that’s why Draco can’t keep himself from ruining the moment by saying, “We should make this official.”

“What? The fact that we haven’t moved all day besides to use the toilet or eat?”

“No,” Draco scoffs. Then he shoves at Harry, who shoves him back, and it quickly devolves into a silly wrestling match on the sofa. Minnie hoots irritatingly at the pair and flies off to the safety of her perch. And perhaps it’s because Harry is being careful of Draco’s injury that he finds himself pinned flat on his back. Draco is holding his arms above his head by his wrists and grinning down at him. He’s about to tease him about getting slow when he sees the panic flash across Harry’s eyes. Draco lets go and then lowers himself until he’s lying half on top of him.

Harry visibly relaxes, wrapping his free arms around Draco with a contented sigh. “Now what was this about ‘making this official’?” he asks once he’s comfortable.

“We should go to the orphanage benefit gala. We can dance- without you running away this time- and hold hands the entire time while we schmooze with all the stuffy Ministry workers, and just generally be disgusting with our appropriate public affection.”

“Is that what you want?”

Of course it is. It’s all Draco’s wanted since the moment Harry asked him to move in. No, that’s not quite right, because Draco would have given anything to be closer to Harry as far back as their time at school (not that he would have admitted it at the time). And the more time Draco spends with him, the more he knows it to be true. He loves Harry Potter, and he wants everyone to know it.

“Yes,” Draco says with utter certainty. “And besides…the gossip has probably spread throughout half of Hogwarts by now. Those two girls in the Hospital Wing seemed all too eager to run out of there giggling last night. By tomorrow I bet we make the front page of the Prophet. The gala is next week, so we may as well give everyone a show.”

Harry laughs, “You always were one for the dramatics.”

“You loved it.”

“I actually hated it, but I lo…don’t hate you, so I’ll forgive your childhood antics.”

Draco notices Harry’s near admission yet chooses not to press him about it. He’ll get there on his own.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: Harry talks about and deals with his past physical abuse, but not with any specific deatils. (It's only ever stated in the books that Harry is verbally abused but I have no doubt that it turned physical as he got older.)

“So how have things been, Harry?” Healer Mason asks from her usual perch behind her desk.

Harry hasn’t been to see her in quite a few months and he’s almost surprised to find her office just as unchanged as the healer herself. With everything new in his own life, sometimes he forgets that not everyone is changing so rapidly. “I’ve been well. Seamus is in charge of the renovation project for the shop- it’s going to take months of work but their plans look great- and I’m looking forward to getting that up and running in the near future.”

“Fantastic.” She gives him a genuine smile and pens down a few notes. “How are things with the Weasleys?”

“I have Sunday lunch there every other week and I’ve finally talked Draco into going the last few times. Molly and Arthur treat him like another son and the others have been welcoming too. Even Ron.”

“That’s good to hear. I know how worried you were about them accepting Draco as your partner.”

“They’re good people.”

“Sounds like it. And now I have to ask: How have you been handling all of the news being printed about the two of you in the papers?”

Harry sighs. “I’d be lying if I said I was ignoring it entirely, but I’ve been trying to not let it get to me. And when the stories are particularly bad, Draco and I will make a game out of it. We come up with wilder and more outlandish details and it always ends with us laughing, so that’s been helping.”

He tries not to get nervous as Healer Mason continues to ask questions about his social and emotional health, but he knows what’s coming. She eventually sets down her quill and looks at Harry directly. “Now what prompted you to schedule with me today?”

Sweat trickles down his back and settles on his upper lip, yet he has to resist the urge to shiver. This shouldn’t be so difficult to talk about- especially with his healer.

“Harry?” she prompts him softly.

“I think-” he coughs and shakes out his hands before starting again, “I think I felt something with Draco.”

“‘Something’…?”

“ _Sexual_ ,” he mutters.

“I see. And how do you feel about that?”

What a typical mind healer thing to say. “I…I’m glad? I guess? Because I never felt like that with anyone else.”

“You don’t seem ‘glad’, if you don’t mind me saying.”

Sometimes Harry wishes he could shake Healer Mason by the shoulders. She’s listened to him for years. She knows where he’s going with this and surely by now she can tell why he’s here. _‘It’s part of the process,’_ a voice that sounds like Hermione says in his head. “I am,” he insists, “but I’m also scared about what comes next.”

“And what comes next?”

“He’ll have to see me naked.”

“Not necessarily. There are all sorts of intimacy. Nudity does not have to be involved.”

“But what if I want that?”

“Then that’s something you’ll have to work on. I suggest talking to Draco and being open about your apprehensions.”

“And what if he’s put-off by what he sees?”

“From what I know about you two, I don’t think he will be.” Harry starts to object but she raises a hand to cut him off. “And worst case scenario- because I know that’s what you’re already thinking is going to happen- then you know his true feelings you can avoid a toxic relationship before you go any further.”

He knows she’s just trying to prove her point, but Harry can’t help but panic a little bit at the thought of Draco leaving him. The only person who knows more about his deepest, darkest secrets is Healer Mason. He wants to think that Draco will accept this part of him as well. “Alright,” he says with a little shake to his voice. “I’ll try.”

* * *

Teddy is turning seven and what he wants more than anything is a pool party for his birthday. He got the idea when he traveled with Harry to another one of his newly-inherited properties. The beautiful brick estate in Wilmslow is large but sits on a property close to other homes. There are families and parks and Harry loves it there. Teddy loves that there’s an in-ground pool. As soon as he gets back home he talks nonstop about how he wants to have his birthday there and invite his friends from school. Andromeda doesn’t want to put that on Harry but he insists, stating that he’ll do anything for his godson.

And that’s why Harry and Draco are spending yet another date night in an abandoned house (though this time there will be no injuries).

“Sorry you’re spending your day off watching a cleaning crew work,” Harry apologizes.

“I don’t mind,” Draco says with a shrug. “Though if you so much as even mention taking a walk I will leave you.”

Harry punches him in the shoulder. “Don’t even joke about that!”

Draco gives him a peck on the cheek in retaliation. “I wouldn’t. But honestly, why do we have to be here right now? We could go to one of the nice restaurants in town.”

He lowers his voice. “They’re all muggles and even though there aren’t any magical items around, I figured it was better to be safe than sorry.”

“They’re cleaning the pool too, right?”

“Yes…”

“Let’s go for a dip when they’re gone then, shall we?”

“But we don’t have any swim shorts.” Not to mention he’d have to take his shirt off.

Draco leans in to whisper into his ear, “Who said we have to wear anything?”

“I’m going to go- go- go check on, um, yeah, outside,” Harry stammers before bolting out of there. He flees to the relative safety of the back garden, bypassing the pool (which has been drained and the crew is currently painting) and heading for the tall row of poplars. He sits in the shade below and contemplates how he can move forward with what he knows he must do.

* * *

Draco takes care of seeing the cleaning crew out when their work is done, and then he goes in search of Harry. Thankfully, it doesn’t take long as he’s still out beneath the trees. Harry jumps to his feet as Draco starts talking. “Apparently we can’t go swimming because the pool has to dry. But it looks great. As does the h- what in the world are you doing, Potter?”

Harry is flinging his shirt over his head, putting his so-called Gryffindor courage into practice. “Go on,” he snaps, “have a look.”

Draco’s eyebrows pinch together in confusion but his gaze never wavers from Harry’s. “Have you gone mad? Should I be taking you somewhere for help?”

“No, I just figure it’s time you know.”

“Know what?”

“Why I’m always pushing you away before things go too far. Why I ran away when you suggested we go swimming. Why the very thought of being starkers in front of someone makes me want to heave.”

Draco looks down at Harry and feels even more confused than before. There’s the residue of dark magic and a smattering of other scars he already knew were there, way back from his appointment with Healer Stackpoole all those years ago. “I don’t understand. I’ve already seen you without a shirt on.”

“You haven’t seen everything,” Then he turns slowly until his back is in full view. He can hear Draco’s inhale of surprise and braces himself for the inevitable fallout.

“I…didn’t know the…extent of it…but it’s understandable, all things considered. You’re going to have scars; you survived a war.”

“It’s not from that.”

“Then what-”

“My uncle.”

Harry can practically feel the fury coming off of Draco in waves. His magic prickles at his skin though not in an entirely painful way. “That son of a bitch is going to pay for this! And for everything he’s ever done to you. They all are.”

“Draco, no.”

“How can you still want to protect them after…after _this_.” He reaches out to touch, reverently running his fingertips across the planes of Harry’s back. Some of the marks go deep, puckering the skin and discoloring it.

He shivers beneath his touch. “Look, Draco…they’re not worth the energy it takes to stay mad. I just wanted you to know why I am the way that I am.”

Draco twines his arms around him and pulls him back until Harry’s back is flush with his chest. Then he leans in whispers into his ear, “‘The way you are’ is amazing. It could have been so easy to hurt them back, but you didn’t. You should hate muggles for what they’ve done to you, but you never have. You’re so strong, despite everything. That’s why I love you.” He punctuates that confession with a kiss to Harry’s neck.

He can’t keep the tears from rolling down his face. “But I look-”

“I don’t care. I told you back then that we all have scars- yours just happen to be visible. And if there comes a time when you’re comfortable enough to tell me about the others, then I’m here to listen. But don’t think this is going to scare me off.” He stretches out his left arm to show the Dark Mark still marring his own flesh. “I have far worse reasons for mine.”

Harry brings it to his lips, kissing over the scull and snake as though he can erase them through the simple act. “Thank you.”

“No need. And besides, with a body like yours there’s no reason to be embarrassed of a few scars you had no control over.” When Harry turns in his arms to give him a critical look, Draco gestures to Harry’s well-defined abs and muscular arms. “You’re bloody fit. Trust me, I can’t focus on anything else.”

He kisses Draco with a smile on his face. “Let’s go home.”

* * *

The morning of Teddy’s birthday finds everyone up with the sun. Who knew that planning and setting up for a small child’s party took so much effort? Harry and Draco stay the night at the estate so that they can get at least a little more sleep before everyone gets there. Knowing that he’d rather have a lie in, Draco shoves Harry toward the shower and promises to have a pot of coffee brewed by the time he gets out. Harry grumbles but it’s mainly for show. The fancy, French coffee that Greg sends them is delicious and Harry’s pretty sure he drinks more of it than Draco.

When he gets out of the shower, he towels off and reaches for the clothes he laid out only to find them gone. In their place is a pair of light blue swim shorts decorated with golden snitches and a white tank top with the Tutshill Tornados’ logo on it. He laughs because he’s turned into somewhat of a superfan of the team, and leave it to Draco to buy him clothes in support of that (even though Draco’s favorite has been the Monstrose Magpies since he was a little boy). There’s also a small wrapped package but Harry assumes it’s just another present for Teddy so he takes it with him. When he gets into the kitchen- where Narcissa is already setting out a towering birthday cake- Draco catches him around the waist and pulls him in for a deep kiss.

“Your mother is right there,” Harry gasps out.

Draco reluctantly lets him go. “You’re no fun. Oh! I see you found Pansy’s gift.”

“I didn’t know she even knew Teddy.”

“I include updates about him in our correspondence, but that’s not for Edward. It’s for you.”

“And why is Pansy giving me a present on someone else’s birthday?”

“Just open it!”

Harry undoes the ribbon tie that’s holding the lid on the box. The inside is lined with satin and nestled in the silky fabric is a round canister. He takes it out and a note falls to the floor. He picks it up but all it says is, ‘Use it well. And if you break Draco’s heart I’ll end you.’ The canister contains a pearlescent crème that Harry can’t seem to look at directly for very long. “What is this?” he asks, more confused than before he opened the box.

Draco looks over his shoulder. “That’s the cosmetic that Pansy formulated to cover all scars.”

“Did you ask her to send it to me?”

“Even if I had, she wouldn’t have listened to me. I don’t know how she does it, but she always knows who needs it and when it would be most beneficial for them to receive it.” Harry looks down at the cosmetic crème as though it holds all of life’s secrets. “Would you like me to help you put it on before everyone gets here?” Draco asks quietly. When Harry doesn’t answer right away he adds, “I know Edward was looking forward to swimming with you…”

“Don’t use my godson against me!” Harry says with a laugh. “But you’re right.”

He hands it over and risks a glance at Narcissa before taking off his shirt. Draco moves to block Harry from his mother (who is doing her best to give them their privacy while still prepping the food) and then spreads on the crème. He thinks it has a strange consistency, but he might just not have enough sensitivity in his fingertips to be able to tell. Either way, the effect on Harry’s skin is immediate. The scars seem to shimmer and then vanish. Draco squints and leans side to side to make sure it appears the same from all angles. “I’ve never seen the product up close and personal like this before. It really is amazing.”

“Want to use some on your arm?” Harry offers as he tugs his Tutshill tank top back on. “I don’t mind sharing.”

But Draco shakes his head no. “I use standard muggle concealer when I want to hide it. It acts like a regular tattoo- now that _he_ is gone- rather than like a scar.”

Harry braces himself for the inevitable feelings of shame and jealousy over the fact that Draco can so easily take care of the Dark Mark, but it never comes. Instead, he feels happy for him- relieved, even. Is this what it’s like to love someone? Oh gods…he loves Draco Malfoy. Harry very nearly throws himself at Draco, wrapping his arms around the back of his neck and tugging him down to his level so that he can kiss him. Draco is surprised by the sudden rush of affection but he gets into it quick enough, tugging at Harry’s hair and using his tongue to deepen the kiss.

“HARRY! DRACO!” Teddy yells as he streams into the room.

Harry breaks them apart so that they can be ready for Teddy to slam into their sides. He may be a mature, seven-year-old now but he still greets them the same way he always has. “Are you ready for your pool party?” Harry asks as he squeezes him in a tight hug.

“Yeah!!” Teddy lets him go so he can jump up and pump a fist into the air.

Draco’s nose turns up at Teddy’s bright orange hair. It’s not Weasley orange, so that’s a plus, but it’s Chudley Cannons orange and that’s not much better. It’s a good thing he’s so cute. “Why don’t you go see what your Aunt Cissy needs help with, alright? Harry and I will be right behind you.”

Teddy is gone in a blur, leaving both men laughing in his wake. “Now, I’m not complaining, but what was all that about before Edward ran in?”

Harry rubs at the back of his neck awkwardly. “I just…love you…is all…”

Draco isn’t sure which is going to break first, his heart from being so full or his face from smiling so wide. “I love you too, Potter.”

Harry flushes under Draco’s gaze, biting at his lip not in an attempt to act coy but in an attempt to tamp down his own face-breaking smile. “And we’ll continue this conversation later, but right now we have a party to finish preparing.” He takes Draco’s hand and tugs him along, heading out towards the pool and their future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only a few chapters left!


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo...If you're following along as I post you may have noticed I added a new 'Mild Sexual Content' tag. It is VERY mild-  
>  not that I'd suggest reading it out loud in public or anything- but it is not explicit in the least. It is rather outside of my comfort zone but it just sort of happened while I was writing so I let it happen.

As he often does after his standard shift, Draco floos over to Hermione’s law office to start his second job as medical consultant for her firm. They’re getting so close to passing legislature to ensure rights for children of werewolves, vampires, and giants, and Hermione has been pushing everyone twice as hard to get their proposals done in time for the next Wizengamot session. Draco and Harry are missing spending leisure time with Hermione, but she keeps telling him that there will be time for that when things calm down. Little does she know that Viktor and Harry are conspiring to give their significant others a well-deserved holiday in July.

They’ve got their noses buried in paperwork when a charmed parchment airplane zips into the office. Draco recognizes it as one from work (St. Mungo’s borrowed the idea from the Ministry) and quickly grabs it out of the air. He unfolds it and reads:

URGENT: Healer Malfoy, you are needed back at Magical Creature Attacks. A patient has just been admitted with severe dragon-related injuries.

The note goes on to list some of the patient’s information and Draco freezes when he scans across the word ‘Weasley’ near the bottom. “Weasley’s been admitted and they need my help,” he exclaims, grabbing Hermione by the arm and nearly dragging her into the floo.

“Draco! Wait!” She pulls against him but he has such a firm hold on her wrist that it’s no use. They land in the employee locker room closest to his ward and he forgoes robes in favor of getting there quicker. “Draco! Just stop for a second and tell me what’s going on!”

“I already said, Weasley’s been admitted and they need my help.”

“Then why in Merlin’s name are you bringing me?”

Draco stops and drops her arm, leveling her with a stern glare. “This feud is rubbish and has gone on long enough. You and Harry care about him, and he’s finally stopped being a massive pain in my arse so- Merlin forbid- I’m starting to care about him too. At least so far as I don’t want to see him dead.”

Hermione can do nothing but gape at him, eyes wide and mouth opening and closing like a fish. “D-did they say what happened?” she finally manages to squeak out.

“Dragons,” he says as he starts walking again, no longer dragging her along behind him but making it clear he expects her to follow anyhow.

“But Draco…that doesn’t make sense.”

“I don’t pretend to understand why aurors run into situations that they are not prepared for.”

“Are you sure it said Ron?”

“It said Weasley, who else would it be?” Draco’s question is immediately answered when he opens the door they’re directed to and sitting on the bed is decidedly _not_ Ronald Weasley. “Who in the hell are you?” he blurts out angrily.

The red-haired man laughs despite the massive amount of bloody bandages covering his torso. “I’m Charlie. You must be Healer Malfoy.”

“But they said Weasley…” And then it clicks in Draco’s head. “Sweet Salazar! There’s more of you?!”

Hermione rolls her eyes and gives Draco a rather hard pat on the back. “Good to know I pick the best and brightest to work with me.” Then she gives a wave to Charlie. “I’m sorry you got hurt, but it is nice to see you again.”

He waves back and then grimaces in pain. “It’s been a while. Things are well?”

“Yes, but let’s save the pleasantries for when you’re feeling better, yeah? I’ll bring Viktor to Romania and we can catch up?”

“Sounds good.”

And with another eyeroll at Draco she’s gone. He busies himself reading Charlie’s chart thoroughly and when he gets his voice and bearings back he says, “I apologize for my unprofessional arrival.”

“‘s alright. Good to know that you care about Ronnie enough to come barging in like that when you thought he was hurt.”

Draco’s cheeks pink at the very implication and proceeds to contradict what he just told Hermione, “I don’t care for him so much as I care for his best friend and Harry would kill me if I let something happen to him.”

“Whatever you need to tell yourself,” Charlie teases with a wink and shrug, though the latter makes him tense up in pain again.

“Right,” Draco says with a clearing of his throat. He summons a spare pair of robes from the supply cupboard and gets his brain back into healer mode. “Now let’s take a look under these bandages.”

* * *

Harry hears Draco step in from the floo and shouts, “You’re late! But I’ve got your plate under a stasis so whenever you- oh!” Draco has walked into the kitchen but he’s not alone. “I didn’t know you even knew each other.”

Charlie gives a little laugh and starts to answer but Draco cuts him off. “We didn’t until I got called back into work because this one decided to get himself mauled by a Welsh Green.”

Charlie just laughs. “You know me.”

Once Harry’s sure he’s alright he asks, “That still doesn’t quite answer why you’re _here_.”

He drops down into one of their kitchen chairs with a sigh. “I was supposed to be coming in tomorrow for Ron’s stag, but you know how Mum is. If I showed up there tonight all banged up from that dragon she’d make it into a bigger deal than it is. I don’t want to make everything all about me. And when I told your _boyfriend_ here,” he winks at Harry playfully, “he said I could stay with you lads for the night.”

“Of course,” Harry says, but he’s not looking at Charlie. He’s giving Draco the softest look of admiration. “Weasleys are welcome here any time.”

They get Charlie set up in the newly-cleaned guest bedroom on the third floor. They apologize to him for there being no bathroom ready up there, but Charlie brushes it off. He washes up on the second floor and then goes straight to bed, claiming to be too tired from the day of excitement. Draco agrees that an early turn-in sounds like a brilliant idea.

Harry waits until they’re both in bed for the night to say something that’s been on his mind for a while. They’re sitting in Harry’s bed, propped up against the headboard with pillows. Harry sets down his issue of Quidditch Quarterly and says, “We should move in together.”

Draco looks up from his book with a quizzical expression. “Have I missed something? Are we not already?”

“No, I mean like… _in here_ together.”

Again, Draco’s face contorts into confusion. “We are currently _in here together_ , Potter. How much more _in here together_ would you liked to be? Because I’d be game for trying out something new tonight if that’s what you want.”

Harry doesn’t know whether to laugh or scream. “Let’s not take that offer off the table just yet, but what I meant was we should turn your room into a guest room and make this one ours.”

“Oh.”

Harry mistakes Draco’s sudden quietness on the topic to mean his aversion to it. “Never mind! Good night.” He pecks him on the cheek and slips quickly under the covers, pulling them over his head to hide his embarrassment. Of course Draco would want his own space. They’ve only been officially dating since just before Christmas. It was a stupid suggestion. He feels Draco moving next to him and figures he’s going to leave. Why wouldn’t he? Harry pinches his eyes shut and tries to hold back his tears- at least until he’s alone.

But then he feels an arm sling over his waist and Draco is whispering, “Mind if I join you?” All he can do is nod, but it’s enough. Draco slides under the covers and right up behind him until his legs are touching the back of Harry’s, knees bent together and feet intermingling. “I haven’t moved my wardrobe in here because I have a lot of clothes and I didn’t want to take up all of your space. But if that’s what it will take to convince you I’m not going anywhere, then I’ll do it right this second.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry croaks out. “I don’t mean to be clingy.”

Draco kisses the back of his neck. “There’s no need for that. You’ve had a lot of people ripped away from you so it’s only natural you’d fight so hard to keep that from happening again. Take Weasley, for instance. He treated you poorly, yet you still gave him chance after chance to redeem himself because you didn’t want to lose him.”

“He’s making up for it.”

“Oh, I know. I wouldn’t let him near you otherwise. But what I’m saying is that I understand even though you don’t have to worry. You’ve got me, Potter, and you’re not getting rid of me.”

Harry nudges Draco until he gets the hint and gives him enough room to roll over and face him. He kisses him with everything he has, trying to put into it everything still unsaid. Draco moans and rolls his hips into Harry’s, eliciting a gasp from him. He waits for Harry to pull away like the times before but that’s the opposite of his intentions.

Harry swings his leg up over Draco and seats himself right on his hips. Draco’s eyes are wide in surprise, but then they’re kissing again so he doesn’t question it. And he’s certainly not complaining when Harry starts to move his hips, rubbing up against him. “Are you sure?” Draco asks, needing to know that _the Savior_ isn’t just doing this out of some perceived obligation.

Harry lens down over his and whispers into his ear, “Don’t ask stupid questions.” He nips at Draco’s ear for emphasis.

Emboldened by Harry’s seemingly newfound interest in a more physical relationship, Draco runs his hands up over Harry’s shoulders and back down the other side until they slip past the waistband of his pajama bottoms. He squeezes the soft flesh, feeling the strong muscles built from his daily runs move underneath.

Harry loves it and wants Draco’s hands on more of him, so as reluctant as he is to stop what they’re doing he rolls away so he can take off his pajamas. “Yours too,” he instructs when he notices Draco is doing nothing but watching him.

And Draco doesn’t have to be told twice. He slides out of his own sleep bottoms and unbuttons his shirt, leaving him in nothing but his satin boxer shorts. He admires the way Harry looks in his own cotton trunks, the kind that go down the leg enough that emphasize his muscular thighs. At some point Draco has to admit to himself that he’s a bit obsessed with Harry’s physique, but right now there’s more pressing matters.

Harry nearly launches himself at Draco, settling on his hips once more. Draco pulls him down for a bruising kiss and then they’re rocking against each other until they’re both hard. Harry reaches a hand into Draco’s pants, taking his length into his hand. Draco groans, though it sounds more frustrated than pleased. “You have to…harder…or I can…”

It’s enough for Harry to understand. When they first started dating, Harry thought perhaps Draco just liked things a little rough. But then Draco told him about Lucius using the _cruciatus_ on him and it all made sense; the way Draco grips a little too tightly when they hold hands, the way his kisses punish their lips, even the way Draco presses their bodies closer than strictly necessary when they lie together at night. Not that Harry’s complaining! But he understands that this all stems from the same issue. Draco just needs more stimulation to help him feel. So Harry squeezes his hand a little tighter, continuing to stroke Draco firmly.

“Yessss!” he hisses, head thrown back. Draco wishes it could go on forever but all too soon he feels the familiar build-up and there’s no stopping the inevitable. He lets out a shout but it’s swallowed up by Harry’s mouth, who keeps kissing him as he strokes him through it.

The tingle of a cleaning spell brings Draco back to the present. He pushes at Harry’s shoulder to get him to roll over and then he moves towards the foot end of the bed. “What are you doing?” Harry asks as he feels Draco’s breath ghost over his pants.

“You’re smart; I bet you can figure it out,” he says with a wink.

It's probably a good thing the guest room is on a different floor.

* * *

Ron’s stag is shaping up to be a huge event. All of the Weasley boys are in attendance, as are Neville, Seamus, Dean, Lee, Harry, Draco, and Luna for some reason. When Draco asks Ron why he invited her, he just laughs and says he didn’t. “Luna shows up where she shows up. Who am I to tell her to leave?”

Blaise and Ginny were going to be there as well but two weeks ago at Sunday lunch Ginny announced that she’d be taking a leave of absence from Quidditch. When everyone pressed her as to why, she pointed at her stomach. Though still flat, she got the point across. Emotions warred on Molly’s face as she wrapped her arms around her only daughter, but she eventually landed on excitement. Arthur, on the other hand, promptly stood up and placed a hand on Blaise’s shoulder. “Why don’t we go have a chat, son.” Blaise paled as much as his dark skin would allow as he followed him out of the room. Last Draco had heard, they were looking for a place to live and arguing about whether they should have their bonding ceremony before or after the baby comes. He hopes Ginny knows how head-over-heels Blaise is for her.

They gather at the first pub of the night, where the drinks are cheap and the other patrons hardly even glance their way. They move on to their second stop once everyone has a nice buzz going. It’s another pub, but they have an underground disco that Harry thinks sounds appealing. Dean and Seamus are on the dance floor immediately. Bill and Charlie make it their mission to find Percy a lady. Draco asks Harry to dance, but he declines when he realizes he’s lost sight of Ron. Luna swoops in take his place and Harry ventures back up to the ground floor in search of his best friend.

Thankfully, Ron’s easy to spot. He’s at a corner table with Lee and George. Harry drops down into the remaining empty chair and asks, “Everything alright?”

“Sure,” George nods, yet Harry doesn’t quite believe him.

“It was a bit crowded down there,” Lee clarifies, “and then we saw Ron having an existential crisis and figured we couldn’t leave him all alone.”

Harry’s eyebrows pinch together in concern. “Existential crisis- Ron- what’s going on??”

With a huge sigh Ron says, “Do you remember me saying how Robards was looking to make some of us Senior Aurors? Well, he told me yesterday that the job is mine if I want it.”

“Forgive me if I don’t see the problem,” Harry drawls.

“Geeze, you’re spending so much time with Malfoy that you’re starting to sound like him.”

They all share a good laugh because Ron’s right. “Sorry, sorry. But tell me what’s wrong.”

“If I take the promotion, then I won’t be home nearly as often.”

“I can see how that would be hard on newlyweds.”

“And new parents.”

Harry feels his eyes nearly bug out of his head but he can’t stop them. “What?” he asks dumbly.

Ron blushes, a look that’s never flattered his coloring, and does an awful job at keeping the smile off of his face. “Lavender just found out. She thought she was sick because the full moon is coming up, but her healers told her otherwise.”

“Mum is going to go completely mental!” Harry exclaims.

“Yeah,” George agrees with amusement. “First Gin and now you. And both before you’re married.”

Ron looks like he wants to melt through the floor. “Our ceremony is in three days. Lav suggested we just…wait to tell her.”

“That’s probably for the best.” Harry sets his hand Ron’s shoulder. “But are you both happy at least?”

 “We are.” And there’s no way he could be faking a smile _that_ big.

George and Lee politely decline going with them, but Harry takes Ron and drags him back down to the disco. They still have some dancing to do before they leave for the next stop, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one more chapter to go!


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! I had a freak thing happen at work where my hand and face went numb. I thought stroke and so did my doctor. I've been in the hospital for a week while they ran test after test and they finally decided it was not a stroke but it was a seizure of all things. Long story short, I'm going to be alright, but it was scary and weird and I really wanted to post the ending to this story but the hospital is catholic affiliated and therefore the wifi has a block on any 'adult' websites so I couldn't get on AO3. But alas, here we are.
> 
> ENJOY!!!!

“I can’t believe you talked me into wearing this,” Harry complains as he digs a finger under the decorative high collar around his neck.

“You look good. Stop fidgeting.”

“How did you even find the exact thing I wore to the weddings in India?”  
“Hermione told me how to get in contact with Parvati, who happened to agree that the traditional look is very flattering on you.”

“I still don’t know why I can’t just wear my denims.”

“Stop whining! You’re an adult- one who’s about to open his own business- and sometimes adults have to wear formal clothing.”

Draco’s only teasing, of course, but Harry’s head hangs in shame nonetheless. “You’re right. I’m just nervous. What if people don’t like the shop? Or they just come by to stare at me?”

 _Lily & Prongs_ is having its grand opening today. The shop takes the place of five standard storefronts in Diagon Alley. Seamus and the other builders worked tirelessly for months readying the building, knocking down walls and placing stability enchantments in the new supports. It was a massive undertaking, but one that was welcomed by all the other shop owners as it greatly improved the look of the entire place.

Dean designed the sign for the front façade while Luna decorated the interior, and Harry couldn’t be happier with the results. This morning he stood out on the cobblestone lane and spent almost twenty minutes just staring at the sign. He loves the way the lily petals seem to be continuously falling around the stylized antlers. It’s reminds Harry of neon signs he’s seen in muggle London, but more intricate and realistic. The inside is less elegant but no less visually stunning. Each section is decorated to represent the goods being sold, so the Wheezes portion of the shop is bright orange and purple while the part where Neville’s plants and potions ingredients are is full of warm greens and browns.

“They’d be fools to not love this place,” Draco assures him, voice much softer than it was before. “Now go give your workers one last pep talk before it’s time to open the doors.”

Harry put out an anonymous advertisement in the Quibbler to find employees to help him run his shop. Hermione helped him word it so that no one would know it was him. She also made everyone whom Harry interviewed sign a magical nondisclosure form (similar to the one she used for Dumbledore’s Army, but much more legal). Several people answered the ad, and in the end Harry was happy with his choices. He checks in with them one last time to make sure everyone is prepared and then he gives the signal to open the doors.

Needless to say, _Lily & Prongs_ is an instant success. People flood in from the streets and even though most are too busy ogling him to purchase much, Harry is glad to finally see the place filled with shoppers and enjoying the space he and his friends created.

They have a party after closing time. Someone brings wine but it’s nothing like the celebratory parties they used to have in the Gryffindor common room; it’s just an excuse to get everyone together.

The later it gets, the more Harry yawns. “Do you want me to kick them out?” Draco asks.

Harry chuckles softly, torn between wanting to spend more time with his friends and wanting to pass out face down on his bed. He changed out of his formal clothes hours ago so he asks Draco, “How about you grab my jumper and I’ll start making the rounds saying goodbye?”

Draco gives him a kiss on the cheek before going into the back room. He absolutely hates Harry’s ridiculous collection of hooded jumpers. Why do they even have a pocket in the front? Can he not put things in his trouser pockets? Or that satchel he ties around his waist? And don’t even get Draco started on the inferior fabric…

He reaches for the offending garment, but when he picks it up something falls out of the pocket and clunks to the ground. It’s a small velvet box and instantly Draco feels dread forming in his stomach. There’s no way Harry could be wanting to get married, right? He saw the fiasco that was Weasley’s wedding. Sure, Ronald and Lavender said it was perfect but Draco doesn’t ever see himself in their position. He calms down enough to realize the box could be anything, so he bends down and retrieves it from the floor.

Draco slowly opens the box and what he finds inside is worse than he could have imagined.

Harry is talking to George when something soars across the room and smacks him square in the chest. Before he can even ask, Draco is yelling at him. “What the hell is wrong with you, Potter? In what world do you think I would I want to be _bonded_ to someone?” He spits out the word like it’s poison.

Harry picks up the rings and velvet box and looks embarrassed. “Draco, wait it’s not-”

“You know who else wanted me _bonded_ to him? THE DARK LORD!”

Draco storms out of the shop so Hermione and Ron- of all people- give each other a knowing look and follow after him.

“Go away, Potter,” Draco growls when he hears the door chime behind him.

“Try again, Ferret.”

Draco pinches the bridge of his nose as he turns to face them. “I regret ending the feud between you lot.”

Hermione laughs because she knows how proud Draco was of himself for the part he played. “Sure you do, but that’s not why we’re here.”

“If you’re going to punch me in the face again, make it quick.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Seriously? I just broke Harry’s heart. You _must_ be cross.”

“Good point,” Ron says and he hauls his fist back. But then Draco flinches and he drops his hand to his side. “Give me a break, Malfoy.”

Hermione has her hands on her hips and her voice is filled with sass when she says, “We’re not here to hurt you; we just want you to stop and think for a second. Harry knows how you feel and he would never ask you to do something you weren’t ready for.”

“But-”

“No buts, Draco. You were right when you said you broke Harry’s heart by throwing those rings at him and rejecting him in front of everyone.” Draco shrinks at the reminder of what an ass he was. “The good news is you can fix it.”

“Not that you deserve him,” Ron adds in.

Harry, meanwhile, is dragged off to the side by Viktor. “I’m sorry, Harry. Is zhere somezhing I can do?”

“It’s not your fault,” he shakes his head sadly. “I said I would hold onto these for you, I just thought I’d have a chance to tell Draco what they were for before he saw them. I’m just sorry for ruining the surprise.”

Viktor shrugs and gets this sappy half-grin on his face. “So I ask her sooner. I vill always be hers, no matter when she takes zhat wreeng.”

The sound of a throat clearing draws their conversation to an end. Draco is standing there with his head down and face devastated. “I owe you my sincerest apologies. Do you want to go somewhere and hear me grovel for your forgiveness?”

But Harry’s not mad. Not really. “You don’t have to grovel. But we should go talk. There’s definitely some misconceptions we need to sort out.”

* * *

A few years go by. Harry and Draco are both absorbed in their work, though they always make time for each other by taking day trips whenever their schedules align. They often travel to see Pansy and Greg (Harry loves how much Draco relaxes around his old friends), but they also go to places all over the world. If there’s a Quidditch match, they attend it. If there’s a beach, they lie on it. The press used to follow them everywhere but eventually they got bored when nothing scandalous happened. Now they just to get to enjoy themselves with minimal interruptions.

It’s on a random Saturday that they both wake up to a day off but no plans. “Want to go to France?” Harry suggests, figuring that’s where they’ll end up anyway.

Draco shakes his head. “Pans is hosting some sort of gettogether for her lady friends. All men have been banned from her home so Greg checked himself into a spa for a few days.”

Harry laughs at the mental image of Goyle wrapped up in clay and seaweed, slices of cucumber on his eyes with new age music playing. “So that’s a no.”

“Anyone you want to visit? You haven’t seen Hagrid in a while.”

“Aww…is that your way of saying you miss him?”

If he’s being honest with himself, Draco feels like a massive wanker for the way he used to talk about Hagrid when he was in school. He’s never met a kinder, more selfless person in his life. Who else could have been trusted to transport baby Harry all those years ago? “That’s my way of saying we should go to Hogwarts today.”

Draco packs them a lunch, despite Harry’s insistence that they could just ask the elves to make them something. “They have to feed hundreds of children,” Draco argues. “They don’t need to waste time on us.”

“I’m going to tell Hermiiiiiooonnne!” Harry sing-songs.

“No!” Draco makes a grab for him but Harry takes off across the kitchen. “She’s been talking about starting up that S.P.E.W. nonsense again!”

“You literally work with her to establish rights for non-human magical creatures!”

“It doesn’t mean I want to be part of an organization called S.P.E.W.!”

Harry cracks first, laughing at the absurdity of it all, but Draco follows soon after. The pair slide to the floor in a pile of giggles. They’ve found themselves in this exact position many a times before and as always happens when they do, Harry wishes they could have been friends a lot sooner. The difference this time is that he voices it out loud.

Draco tilts his head in thought and something of a sad smile crosses his face. “I know what you mean, but I think things had to be the way they were for all of this to happen. One small change in our past would make our present wildly different.”

“I used to imagine what my life would be like had I not been sorted into Gryffindor.”

“Where else would the Hat have put you?”

Harry starts to laugh again but then realizes that Draco is serious. “Have I never told you that story?” Draco says no. “I guess when I told your mother I just assumed she would have told you. I was almost sorted Slytherin but I asked the Sorting Hat to put me anywhere else but there.”

“Ha! Of course you did. But can you imagine the two of us in Slytherin together? We would have ruled that place by our second year.”

“Or killed each other.”

“See? One small change and our entire lives could have been different.”

“I’m pretty partial to this life.” Harry leans over to kiss him and then pulls them both to their feet.

They apparate to the edge of Hogwarts’ wards (even though Harry _can_ break through them doesn’t mean he _wants_ to relive that experience). Then they walk to Hagrid’s cabin hand in hand. But when they knock on the door, they get zero response. Figuring he must be away for the weekend, Harry leads them up to the castle.

“I thought we could picnic by the lake. Where are you taking us?”

“You’ll see,” Harry says with a wink.

They take the staircases higher and higher and the further they go the more nervous Draco gets. He’s relieved when they go past the seventh floor landing (he doesn’t think he can step into the Room of Requirement ever again) but the uneasy feeling in his stomach returns as they continue to climb. There’s only one place that’s up this high and he doesn’t want to go there either.

“Potter. Stop.”

“Draco, I promise nothing bad will happen.”

He stops right on the stairs and sets their picnic basket down so he can fold his arms over his chest. “No.”

“Please?”

“No! I can’t pick the worst day of my life- there’s been too many- but that was definitely in my top five.”

“Me too, Draco, but that’s why we have to do this.”

“I’m not like you! I can’t just charge in and face my fears! You should have told me!”

“Just come on!” Harry grabs the basket and drags him up the last few steps, all but pushing him through the door to the Astronomy Tower.

Draco doesn’t realize he’s shaking until Harry has his arms around him. “Please let me leave. Please. I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to see.”

“See what? Draco. Open your eyes.”

He shakes his head side to side but with Harry’s quiet patience he slowly peels open one of his eyes and risks a glance. There’s no clouds, no darkness, no Dark Mark in the sky, no Death Eaters, no Dumbledore, no crazy Aunt Bellatrix, no Snape. The sunlight is pouring in through the parapet and it shines off of the telescopes making the whole place seem shiny and new. “Why here?” he asks, still afraid to move (despite the improved view).

“I know how this haunts you. You still get nightmares of that night, and that’s okay because I do too. But I thought perhaps I could make it better. Do you remember when the shop opened and you thought Viktor’s rings were for you?”

“How could I forget?” he all but slaps himself in the forehead. “I made such a fool of myself.”

“That night we talked about how you didn’t want a bonding, and I said I was fine with that. It still seems weird to me anyway. Muggles don’t have anything like that and being permanently indebted to someone- even someone I love- just isn’t my idea of happiness. But what does make me happy is you.” Harry reaches into his pocket and pulls out two plain, silver rings. “There’s nothing fancy about these. I just had them engraved on the inside. And we don’t even have to have a wedding ceremony. I know what you mean to me with or without that. But would you want us to wear these?”

He holds out his hand flat and Draco reaches for first one ring and then the other, all of his apprehension about being in the Astronomy Tower pushed to the back of his mind for now.

“That isn’t exactly romantic,” Draco grumbles, fighting down the amusement in his voice.

Harry shrugs a shoulder. “Maybe not. But it’s us.”

Draco looks at them both again before putting one onto his own ring finger and sliding the other onto Harry’s.

“Really?” Harry asks excitedly, bouncing on the balls of his feet as though he expected to be rejected.

Draco kisses him by way of an answer but then Harry pulls away and takes his ring back off. He thinks Harry’s changed his mind but he’s just checking what’s written on the inside. Harry smiles when he sees the words, ‘Scared, Potter?’ because he knows the one on Draco’s finger says, ‘You Wish!’

“Ready for that picnic now?”

“Here?” Draco whines.

“Yes. I am determined to make this place better for you.”

“Well, you’re certainly off to a good start.”

* * *

And though all is not perfect, Harry supposes it _is_ well. In its own way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I hope you liked it! It still has a happy ending because I don't think I can write a sad one. But I was going for believably happy.
> 
> THANK YOU FOR READING AND LIKING/COMMENTING! I have another Drarry story in the works but it will be a while until I have it ready to post. Feel free to walk over to Tumblr and chat if that's something you do- I have the same username on there- or just leave comments. I love talking about all things Harry Potter :)


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